The New Dawning
by Sunset on Heartache
Summary: A very different Harry Potter than we know comes to La Push to get away after the death of his girlfriend. As luck should have it, one of our favorite wolves imprints on the younger boy... and Bellatrix Lestrange escapes Azkaban.
1. Meeting His Eyes

_A/N: Wow! Who woulda thought I coulda got 5 chapters done in such a short time? ;3 I've been writing almost non-stop, because I actually got back into this story. Now, understand that a LOT has changed...and I hope I don't lose many readers because of it. I feel like the big stuff stayed the same, though... Somehow you'll recognize some things. I've got SEVEN chapters done, and I'll try to post pretty often. This is the shortest chapter of all of them so far... ^-^_

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Twilight or Harry Potter. At all. JKR and SM do._

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter One: Meeting His Eyes**

"_Always remember that the future comes one day at a time." ~Dean Acheson_

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_August 6, 1999_

La Push, Washington was darkening steadily by the time that Sam Uley let his pack off patrol. The boys, who hadn't seen any action in the last fortnight, immediately cheered and phased to their human-selves, leaving to find something to do.

Paul Walker found himself wandering the rainy, nighttime streets of the small reservation. It was quiet out, since not many people hung around after sunset. Though it had been a year or two since there had been murders in the woods (the pack made well sure of that), people still weren't quite comfortable with the thought of what could be lurking there, and as such, left before things got _too_ dark.

The tall, muscular boy – who many said had an anger problem – found himself in the itty-bitty little diner on the edge of town. They served food twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and it was probably the best food on the reservation.

He ordered himself some food, smiling a quirky little grin at Leah Clearwater, who hadn't had patrol today. "Missed some _fun _stuff, Clearwater," he snickered.

The only she-wolf out of the whole pack huffed and crossed her arms. "Well, I would have _rather _been out there than in here. Hey, do me a favor and wake that kid up over there, will you?"

Paul glanced to where she was pointing.

Now, you don't see many pale people in La Push. Most of them are visitors from Forks, because most of the folks on the reservation are at least partly Quileute – an Indian tribe. But this boy was porcelain pale, his cheek on his arm, slumped over next to his food. His lips were slightly parted, and his face was undeniably angelic – not something you see on a boy very often, and Paul should know, since he hung around a whole pack of boys every day. He looked young, fourteen or fifteen at most, and he must have been sleeping for a while – his shake was almost all the way melted.

Paul slipped over and sat his food down before nudging the kid, who shifted and murmured something under his breath before blinking lightly and opening his eyes. They were the brightest green Paul had ever seen, and he just stared at the kid as if – as if the kid was his whole entire world. It was like someone had punched him in the stomach, but it didn't hurt – no, if felt _good._ Everything faded away, except this kid right here in front of him with pink sleep marks on his cheek and cold french fries and a melted shake.

_Oh, god, did I just – but no, that's impossible, you can't imprint on the same gender. But I..._

Everything he'd ever been told was pointing toward an imprint, and yet, Paul couldn't help but feel something was wrong. He jumped up as if he was burned, hightailing it out the door and into the rainy night.

–––

_An hour and a half earlier_

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The boy in the mirror made him sick to his stomach. His near-flawless skin was stretched tightly over ribs, so tightly that he could count each one of them. His fingers smoothed down them and he turned a bit green, dropping his hands to his side. His skin was pale – he couldn't deny that he was very, very unhealthy. The bags under his eyes made him look like a raccoon, nearly. He kept waiting for his stomach to growl, or something to say _alright, Harry, you're hungry, it's time to eat._ But nothing ever happened, and whenever he tried to force himself to eat, flashes of memories went through his mind.

They always started with Cedric staring blankly at the night sky. After that was Sirius, calling him James and then sliding through the Veil – as if it was some sort of sick joke to have your godfather's last words be mistaking you for your father. Then face after face, all the people he'd seen killed or injured, blood and skin and just so many crawling things that made him wish he never had to open his eyes again.

So he didn't eat then, either, still waiting for his stomach to alert him to its emptiness.

And when he slept, the images of the graveyard at Godric's Hollow swept past him. _Heroes of the War,_ the memorial stated, _1966-1997_, and then it listed every witch, wizard, or magical creature that had fallen on account of the Dark Lord or his followers. Name after name, etched deeply into sparkling, ebony-colored stone... and Dream-Harry's eyes would automatically pick out the ones he knew: "Cedric Diggory. Ted Tonks. Remus Lupin. Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin. James Potter. Lily Potter. Sirius Black," the last one was always etched in hurriedly at the end, the very last name, because Harry had thrown a huge fit until it was there. And then he'd left.

So sleep didn't come easily, either, but he tried – tried because if he didn't, he'd be in a ward at the hospital, or that's what his Healers always threatened him with. If he stopped eating and sleeping, they said, he'd be in a permanent ward where they could watch him always and make sure he was always healthy. That was a punishment, he felt, and why be healthy if he couldn't _live?_ He'd rather be unhealthy and living on his own, thank you very much.

"I have to try," he said to the mirror, and the mirror copied his mouth's movements, but this wasn't a talking mirror like at the Burrow. This was a muggle mirror, and so it didn't talk back to him, for which he was thankful.

"I have to try," he repeated, and turned away from the mirror. He tugged on a too-loose shirt and too-loose pants over his too-loose boxers, stuffed his feet into some shoes, and grabbed his keys. His wand, as always, was on a holster on his thigh... always within reach but out of sight.

The streets were filled with chattering people, happy and sad and indifferent. He avoided their eyes, slipping into a diner on the outskirts of town. It was warm inside, and pleasant, and for some reason his shoulders relaxed a little.

His glasses slid down on his nose and he pushed them up, wondering if he was supposed to go sit and wait for someone to take his order, or if he placed his order at front. Self consciously, he stepped a little closer to the door, looking around shyly. Another man was ordering at the counter, so he followed this example, eyes scanning the hand-written menu behind the cashier.

_Fries,_ he decided, because he had always liked fries. Mostly because they were salty and he liked salt.

The cashier was pretty in a down-to-earth way, her short hair cut choppily as if she hadn't a care in the world. It was dark brown, nearly black, with caramel highlights from being out in the sun. She had on a smudge of lipstick, not too much but enough to tell it was definitely there, and the diner's apron over a white tank-top and black slacks. He observed all of this in the moment it took for her to call, "Next."

There was a scar next to her eyebrow that Harry rather liked. It kind of accentuated her strong jaw and high cheekbones.

He placed his order, looking away from the girl – she seemed the type to hit people, and he didn't need any bruises for his next appointment.

"Anything to drink with that?" he was asked, and he began to shake his head before asking her opinion. She, eying his thin frame critically, muttered, "You should try a shake."

So he did, if only because he thought the extra calories might make him look a _little _less sickly. Afterward, he sat down in the only empty table and began nibbling on his fries.

Harry was a picker – you know, _pick, pick, _shove the food around, pick a little more, decide you're done eating, move food around again, pick some more. Because of this, the two oldest Weasley boys had taken to calling him Bird, saying that's what birds did.

Before he knew it, he had half the fries gone – more than he'd eaten in one setting in... weeks. Half the shake was gone, too. Harry was almost happy with himself, but he didn't quite feel 'happy' anymore, so it was just a pleasant feeling in his chest.

And then he was dreaming.

Not a nightmare, like usual. It was a...nice dream, it made him feel good. A small redheaded girl chasing a train, and it felt like a thousand years ago, but Harry knew the exact date it had happened. September 1, 1991 at Kings Cross station on Platform 9¾. Her cries echoed in his head hollowly, but unlike the usual cries in his dreams, these ones were sort of nostalgic and wanting instead of pained and dying. She didn't want the train to leave.

The next thing he was conscious of was being nudged gently on the shoulder. He mumbled, "Don't go," but he was sure it was unintelligible. He blinked slowly, aware of the fact that he had _just been sleeping,_ and not a tossing-and-turning, half-awake, nightmare-filled sleep. A sleep that actually physically renewed him a little.

He glanced up at the person who had woken him, almost immediately remembering that the last time he was awake he'd been in the La Push diner. He blushed – falling asleep in a diner?

The man in front of him was huge, and for a split second, panic shot through Harry. Was the man angry? But no, he just looked confused. They caught eyes and Harry's breath went out of him.

He'd never liked a man before – actually, he'd never really liked anyone except Ginny Weasley, but _she _was out of the question now. This man, however, was _perfect_. Molten brown eyes, swirling with emotions, nose just a tiny bit upturned, strong jaw and cheekbones, hair a little too long on top and flopping into his eyes, muscles straining against his black wife-beater, cut-offs sagging a little. The man swallowed and then was gone before Harry could say anything at all.

But Harry was filled with this warm sensation, and he wanted to go after the other man and just...well, he didn't even know what. Just wanted to see him again. Harry glanced at his cold fries and melted shake, and then ordered some new food to take home with him.

And he ate it all, though nobody ever said it stayed in his stomach – after eating too little for a long time, and then eating too much, Harry's belly wasn't used to all the food and rejected most of it.

But he still felt good about himself, and curled into his bed hoping for a good night's sleep.

It mostly was, but near the end, when the warm feeling was wearing off, things turned dark and cold again and the graveyard was back.

In the morning, though, Harry didn't look like a raccoon. And he had a little color back.

And that was a good start, yeah?

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_Review, please. Whether you didn't like it or you did, or you can't wait for the next chapter, or I'm a terrible writer, or you hate me, or anything really. _

_~Kymmie_


	2. The House on Black Hill

_A/N: ...WOW. You guys are amazing. I was hoping for a good reaction to the new story, but FORTY-SOME reviews on the FIRST CHAPTER? In less than a day, as well. Thank you guys sooo much I hope you like this chapter, things move fast but I hate dragging things out - and I suppose they're not moving TOO fast. You'll see what I mean. xD_

_DISCLAIMER: I only own my Pokemon games and my laptop. And maybe my bookshelves full of books. And a whole lot of other stuff that doesn't include Twilight OR Harry Potter. ;3_

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Two: The House on Black Hill**

"_It is not love that is blind, but jealousy." ~Lawrence Durrell_

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_August 9, 1999_

It was obvious to anybody looking at the large man that Paul Walker was lost in thought. He was not just dwelling on the surface, because the man was so gone that he didn't even bother to pretend to be in the conversation his packmates were having.

Thoughts of a black-haired, green-eyed boy were haunting his every waking moment, and Paul could not bear the thought of what would happen the next time he had patrol...which happened to be tomorrow. Everybody would be able to see his thoughts, and that was just not okay with Paul, who had not even come to terms with his imprinting on a boy. He ached to be in his wolf form again, but he couldn't risk everyone else finding out before he'd even figured it all out for himself.

He knew he wasn't gay. Well, at least, he'd never thought of himself as gay – he'd never liked anyone but women, after all. His eyes had never lingered in the locker room, he'd never Googled pictures of naked men, nothing. And that was a sure sign that he didn't like men, right?

And then there was the problem about his _imprinting _on a man – boy – didn't you imprint on the person who would be able to pass on the shapeshifting gene the easiest? Or give you the most children? Well, men obviously can't have children.

It had only been three days since Paul and Harry first locked eyes. Not that Paul knew the smaller boy's name was Harry – and Harry certainly didn't know Paul, either. All three of those days had consisted of eating, sleeping, and Paul wracking his brain to try and figure out how it was possible that he'd imprinted on a boy. But each and every time, he came up short, and decided that it just wasn't possible and he must have made a mistake – either he hadn't imprinted, or the boy was actually just a really masculine female.

Somehow, though, Paul knew both of those facts were false. As the days went on, his chest began to hurt with the separation. Quil Ateara used to jabber on that this would happen to him when Claire's parents went away on vacation during the summer and took Claire with them, but that it would go away as soon as Claire was close again. Sam called it the Imprint Radar, saying that the wolf somehow knew when the imprint was too far away for too long.

Paul closed his eyes in frustration, because now he had just decided he'd dreamed the whole thing and just hadn't woken up yet. When he opened his eyes, only Sam was left in front of him, Emily bustling around her kitchen. Working up his nerve, the temperamental shapeshifter looked at his alpha and murmured,

"Sam?"

"Hm?" the slightly older man asked, rolling his shoulder-blades and picking at a muffin.

Paul weighed his options, and then made it seem like he was just plainly curious. "Has a wolf ever imprinted on someone of the same gender before?"

He watched as Paul looked up, eyes calculating, clearly trying to remember. After a few moments, Sam sat back and put his arms behind his head.

"Yeah, a couple of times, I guess," Sam decided. "Years and years ago, around the time that the treaty was made, there was a wolf who imprinted on a boy," there was no need to say 'a male wolf' because Leah was the only female shapeshifter in history. "The boy turned out to be some sort of creature that could bear children, I guess. And then there was another couple before that, when the gene almost died out because not enough children were being born as is. The boy was the same creature as the other boy, but both he and his imprint died before any children could be conceived." Sam took a long drink of his Coca Cola, and then wiped his mouth and continued. "I've always thought that these were partly true and partly myth. I can totally see wolves imprinting on the same gender, and I can see there being other creatures out there apart from werewolves, vampires, and shapeshifters – but I cannot see males bearing children, which is the part I think is a myth. Why do you ask?"

Paul shrugged uncomfortably, and Sam must have realized why Paul asked, because he made this affirming sound in the back of his throat.

"I see... have you talked to him yet, then?"

He shook his head, a little ashamed. "It happened three days ago and I was so freaked out that I just...got up and left. I haven't seen him since."

Sam rolled his shoulders again, as if readying himself for battle. "Paul, if you don't talk to him soon, both of you could end up in a really bad state. The pain is worse for the imprint – I have no doubt you're beginning to feel it, but he probably began to feel it yesterday and it's probably worsening at this moment. It's not really that bad right now, but leave it for two weeks and I can promise you it'll be crippling."

Paul touched his chest, where the pain had blossomed early this morning. It _wasn't _that bad – kind of like he'd been running and was a teensy bit out of breath, but not something anybody couldn't handle. The other boy probably hadn't even begun to realize something was wrong yet. But ...if what Sam said was true...Paul couldn't let that happen to the poor boy.

"I don't think he's very old," Paul admitted. "He looked young. Fourteen, maybe fifteen. But he shouldn't be hard to find, since he's – he's not the same color as us," Paul had a hard time being racist, since everyone on the rez had heard the slurs at one point or another, and it did hurt. "He's pale."

"Hmm," Sam muttered. "I heard rumors that the house on Black Hill is occupied again."

Paul was a bit surprised to hear this. Everyone knew that the house on Black Hill had been empty for over one hundred years – it had once, long ago, belonged to Jacob Black's family, but rumor had it that Jacob's great-great-great ancestors were disowned for some reason or another, but allowed to keep the name, and so the house ceased belonging to them. That was back around the time when the La Push myths said that La Push was still full of magic – which is, where legend has it, around the time when the shapeshifters came to be. But the Black Manor, which sat on the hill and gave the hill its name, had emptied before the time when the treaty was signed. How the house was still standing, let alone fit for living in, was beyond Paul...but it was a good place to start looking for his imprint.

The only problem was that it was said you couldn't actually _reach _the house. You could see it from afar, and walk up the drive, but around the middle of the driveway you'd stop and couldn't go any further. There were several variations of this story – some said that you'd be stopped by an invisible wall, some said you physically could not force yourself to walk any further in that direction, and others claimed that every time they'd get to that point they'd suddenly remember something they had to do (they'd left the stove on, they were going to be late for something, anything really) and would simply turn and leave, forgetting all about why they were there in the first place. Now, Paul hadn't ever been superstitious before becoming a wolf, but now he knew that there were things out there that were beyond natural explanation, and that is definitely one of them.

He was about to bring this up to Sam when the other man stretched and stated, "I know that everyone says you can't get up there, but let's try anyways."

– – –

Harry was again examining himself in the mirror. Though he'd been sleeping a bit better since moving to America, his eating habits had stayed the same – meaning he ate next to nothing. Actually, that was a lie. He ate good sometimes – but only at the diner. He knew that his eating habits didn't make him look good. In fact, he looked utterly disgusting. He needed to eat more, but he just couldn't make himself eat more.

It was yesterday night when he'd gone to the diner to eat and met Seth Clearwater. The boy was a bit younger than him – three years – but was extremely fun to hang out with. He made Harry smile and laugh in ways that he hadn't done since before Voldemort had gotten his body back. The very first day they met, Seth had taken him on a tour of La Push (which he'd only seen very little of) and they'd went swimming. Well, Seth had swam, and Harry had waded because he really didn't know how to swim. It was only luck in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament that he was able to make any headway in the water, because before that day, he'd not swum a day in his life.

Today, Seth was coming over for the first time. When Harry had let slip where he lived, Seth had gone all wide-eyed and gape-y, doing a very good impression of a fish. He'd let out this awed, "_You _live on _Black Hill_?" and then begged until Harry invited him over.

Harry tugged on his clothing and then slipped down the stairs. He liked this house well enough. It was in good repair, just a little musty after being shut up for so long. He'd inherited it with the rest of the Black estates when Sirius died, but this was the smallest town he could find, so that's what he chose. It was not likely that anybody around these parts would recognize him, and that's just what Harry needed.

What Harry didn't like, though, was the Slytherin propaganda found everywhere within the house. He'd had the portraits torn down already, and sent the little family of House-Elves that had taken residence in the house off to Hogwarts, where they were much happier. But still, even now, he was taking down snake insignias, throwing out Slytherin-embellished cups, spoons, posters, candle-sticks...there were even snake-shaped faucets in the bathrooms that he had begun getting rid of.

The doorbell rang and Harry smiled, actually excited for his new friend to be over. One of the first things Harry'd done when he moved in was take down the muggle repelling charms – honestly, it was amazing that the Blacks hadn't been brought in for breaking the statute of secrecy with how many rumors were flying about the 'bewitched' Black Hill. Harry jogged down to answer the door, pulling it open to see Seth standing there a little curious and a lot afraid.

"It's not going to murder me if I come in, is it?" Seth wondered.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "What is 'it'?"

"The house."

"Oh," Harry shrugged. "Well, I'm still alive," he responded – because honestly he had been wondering the same thing when he first moved in and had to gut out all of the notorious dark items. But now they were all gone, save maybe a stinging teapot in the basement, but Harry wasn't taking Seth to the basement. Mostly because the basement even gave Harry the creeps, which was why there was still a stinging teapot down there.

"So," Seth stated, slipping off his shoes. "How'd you come into this house, anyways? I didn't think it was for sale."

"That's because it wasn't," Harry said smartly, offering Seth something to drink. When the boy asked what he had, Harry just stepped away from the (newly installed) refrigerator and let him rifle through it himself. "I inherited it from my godfather when he passed away."

"I'm sorry," Seth said, and then, "Are you, like, _rich _or something?"

Harry cocked his head, making himself some cocoa. "I guess you could say that. Most of it's not because of me, though, so I usually say that my _family _is well-off. My parents left me a bunch of money when they died, and so did my godfather – he claimed me as his sole heir before he died, since he didn't have any children."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "Do you all talk like you're kings in England?" he wondered, and then realized it may be offensive and corrected himself. "I mean, like... all proper and stuff. You keep saying 'heir' instead of 'kid' and everything, and I just.." it was hard to see the blush under Seth's russet skin, but it was definitely there.

"I know what you mean. Where I come from, there's a lot of old families and a lot of old money to be passed down. If you don't name somebody to claim the money, it will be absorbed into the government when the last in your line dies. So we name 'heirs' – usually it's the firstborn child, but if you don't have children, you can claim a close friend's child or something – to take our money and property when we die," Harry explained lightly. "As an example, I'm the last Potter. If I don't have children, I'll claim my godson as my heir and he'll inherit the Potter estates and banks and the Black estates and banks, because those are in my possession."

Seth made a face. "Well, that's not really fair to the other kids, is it?"

Harry laughed. "Not at all. Which is why some of the better families – er, the families who don't always stick to tradition – split the funds between their children. That's what I'd do."

Seth nodded, and then prodded Harry into giving him a tour of the place.

The Black Manor – or, the one in Washington – was rather large, with three stories and a basement. There was room for twelve or thirteen people to live in it, when you took in to consideration the guest quarters and the family quarters. Seth was fascinated by the old-styled bathrooms, most of which didn't have showers yet. He also, somewhat jokingly, said, "Whoa...can I move in with you?"

It was around dinner time when Seth finally had to leave. Harry had made them lunch, and they'd laid in front of the television on their bellies watching a movie that Seth liked, which had a lot of shooting and shrieking and death in it. It was kind of humorous to Harry, who had experienced many people dying, to see how badly Hollywood recreated death scenes.

"Alright..." Harry murmured, pretending to pout for a moment to get Seth to laugh. A moment later, he was graced with the laugh, and they parted ways.

– – –

Paul and Sam were coming up the driveway to the Black Manor when someone came _out _of the house. It was a big someone, and whoever it was moved quickly down the drive as if he had somewhere to be. Paul was startled to find that it was Seth Clearwater, one of the younger wolves – he was sixteen, but only thirteen when he had shifted for the first time.

When the three met, Seth nearly ran into them.

"Oof," he murmured. "Oh, hey!" he chirped happily.

Paul narrowed his eyes, but Sam beat him to the punch. "Seth, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just visiting someone," Seth said. "But now I'm on my way to patrol, you know, 'cause it's my turn."

"Who are you visiting?" Paul demanded, temper rising.

Seth held up his hands in the universal 'calm down' signal. "Just my friend. Harry. He just moved here, and I met him yesterday."

Paul made to grab Seth, but the boy jumped out of the way before he could. Sam tried to intervene, but now both of the others were throwing punches – and Paul wasn't even sure why he was so angry, but he was, and it was just like every other time his temper had got the best of him for no-good-reason-at-all. He began to shake, and Sam was yelling at him and Seth was scowling but he couldn't really tell was was being said, until all of the sudden the door to the house slammed.

"HEY!" shouted a loud, accented voice.

Paul jerked, his body not shaking anymore, and turned toward the sound. A barefooted boy with black hair and green eyes was standing near them now, hands-on-hips and the dirtiest look on his face.

"What gives you the right to fight in my driveway?" he demanded, but nobody answered. "Hey, I'm _talking _to you three. Seth?" he asked, tapping his foot.

"I-I," Seth babbled. "Sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to – Paul's always losing his temper, he took the first swing and I couldn't just stand there–"

"Seth," Sam warned, having a feeling that the younger boy might just ruin any chances Paul had with this boy – because now that he saw the way Paul had just _stopped _being angry, he was sure that this Harry was Paul's imprint.

"You," Harry said, scowling at Sam, "Don't get to tell him when to stop talking. Who are you? Actually, I really don't care. Go away. Both of you. Come here, Seth, are you okay?"

Paul watched jealously as Seth obediently followed Harry away from them, reassuring the boy that he'd not gotten hit. And then, in a dark voice, he told Sam,

"I am going to _murder _that kid when he steps out of that house."

"No, you're not," Sam said, in that alpha voice of his that made it impossible not to go along with anything he said. "You're going to come back with me and run Seth's patrol because you just lost your temper for exactly _no _reason at all, and frankly I'm getting tired of that, and then when Seth gets back you're going to apologize, and you're not going to touch him, and then you'll go home and we'll try this again tomorrow."

And that's exactly what happened.

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_A/N: Review, yes? c: Oh, and I forgot I usually ask questions._

QUESTION: What is your favorite candy?


	3. The Departure

_A/N: Okay, guys. A couple of things. First off, several of you have mentioned that Paul's last name is 'actually' Lahote. WRONG. Maybe it's Lahote in the movies, but this story is based off the BOOKS, where Paul is never said to have a surname. So I gave him a surname I thought sounded nice with his name, because I've never SEEN the last three movies, where Paul is featured. Secondly, I didn't know Paul Walker was an actor - I've never heard of him and I've never seen Fast and Furious. Third, I am not going to 'fix' something that's not 'wrong'. Sorry, you guys. -shrug-_

_Onto the story! You no-doubt remember that the original had a period in which Harry disappeared from like, August to December or January. I think he was tracking Bellatrix or somesuch, I dunno, but this makes a lot more sense to me._

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Twilight or Harry Potter, and apparently I need to disclaim Paul's name now, too._

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Three: The Departure.**

"_Health is not valued until sickness comes." ~Thomas Fuller_

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_August 10, 1999_

Paul dropped onto his bed late the night after he'd had to run Seth's patrol. Running patrol twice in a row was not only a huge workout, but it was also very, very tiring. His eyelids screamed at him to sleep, but his chest had begun aching again and it was annoying him so, so much. He'd not had a chance to go back and try to talk to the Harry boy again, between running double patrol, his job at the garage (which helped him pay for this flat, since his mother kicked him out), and all the other seemingly simple tasks one has to do in a day. There just wasn't enough time. But he wanted to see the boy again, because now the imprint was really tugging at his mind and telling him, _"this is who you love. There's nothing you can do about it. Stop fighting it."_

And it wasn't really hard to stop fighting it, either, because Harry was...amazing. Well, from what Paul had seen, he was amazing. Though the man had never thought he liked other men, Harry was exactly perfect in every single way. Paul dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to get these thoughts out of his head. It was already bad enough that Leah and Embry had both seen everything he'd thought about Harry, because he and Leah had patrolled together yesterday and he and Embry today. And soon, no doubt, the whole pack would know that Paul had 'switched teams'.

After laying in bed for an hour, Paul groaned and sat up. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep, the man slid on some clothes and took off out the door, walking wherever his feet took him.

He wound up at the diner, probably because he couldn't stop thinking about Harry, and this was the first place he'd ever seen the boy. Paul decided he was hungry, anyways, so he stepped inside and went to order.

As he was waiting for Leah (who always purposefully slowed down when she saw Paul, just to irk him) to finish his order, Paul glanced around. There were a few cops, just finished with their shift, some sketchy-looking teenagers, a college student cramming for a test. In the corner was a head of black hair, not facing him, and Seth.

He nearly let out a loud groan of annoyance. But he didn't, and instead took his food to the table and asked Seth, "Can I sit with you guys?"

Paul was fully prepared to knock Seth's head into the wall if the boy said no, but instead the two boys in the booth just giggled together like a bunch of schoolgirls and then Seth slid over so there was more room for Paul.

A little worried now, Paul sat gingerly and glanced at the black-haired boy. Harry was looking at him, a bit demurely in Paul's opinion, with a tiny blush on his cheeks. Paul found himself extremely attracted to the other guy, but didn't act on it. He held out his hand, giving a somewhat forced smile.

"Paul Walker."

Harry's hand was small and cool in Paul's, but it felt kind of nice. "Harry Potter," he said, taking his hand back quickly.

Paul heard the accent again, and blurted out, "Are you British?"

"English," Harry corrected. "Though I suppose I _am _British, but my accent is English."

Paul smiled a little, then busied himself in eating his food because he was not liking the feeling in the pit of his belly right now. He'd never like a boy. These feelings were reserved for girls, which he'd liked plenty of. But not for boys. Except now they were? He was confusing himself and that wasn't good, especially in front of Harry.

"So, Paul," Seth said, and Paul didn't like the tone of his voice. "I'm going to teach Harry how to swim. Maybe tomorrow? Wanna come?"

Undoubtedly, Leah had let it 'slip' that Paul had imprinted on Harry. "Um..." Paul murmured.

"Oh, actually, Seth," Harry piped in. "I forgot to tell you, but I'm leaving for England tomorrow."

"Really?" Seth asked, pouting. "Why?"

Harry shrugged, uncomfortable. "I'm uh...going to visit Ginny's parents. Tomorrow's her birthday and we're all going to...going to spend it together."

Paul looked between the two boys, wondering who Ginny was and why she was important. But Seth just looked a little sympathetic and Harry was looking at his plate, which had a burger with two bites taken out of it and some fries on it.

"You should eat," Seth advised, not looking at Paul. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"Probably a few days. I'll stay with her family the first day and then visit Teddy – I told you about Teddy, right? – and maybe catch up with some friends," Harry muttered, picking at his fries. After a moment, he took the bun off of his burger and nibbled on it, but didn't really seem hungry and dropped it back onto his plate again. "It's really late. I should go," he finally mumbled, and Paul knew that the only reason he was leaving was because _Paul_ was there and had made Seth ask a bad question by accident and now the whole mood was ruined.

"Bye!" Seth chirped, waving. "Call me when you get back, okay?"

"Alright," Harry called, waving and departing, fingers gripping a Styrofoam box with his leftovers in it.

Paul moved to sit opposite Seth, glaring a little.

"Who's Ginny?" he demanded immediately, as soon as Harry had left the diner.

Seth wiggled his eyebrows. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Paul grasped the table, refraining from grabbing Seth. "I _said, _who's _Ginny?_"

Seth rolled his eyes. "Harry's ex-girlfriend."

"Oh." Paul relaxed, and then tensed again. "Girlfriend? I thought he was – that he liked guys? And why is he visiting his ex-girlfriend for her birthday?"

Seth snorted. "If you were nicer, maybe he'd tell you all of this himself. The only reason he's still not together with her is because she died."

Paul's shoulders slumped a little. _Oh._ That made sense.

"And he hasn't liked _anybody _since she died, so unless you're, like, super-awesome in his eyes, you've got no chance," Seth said, words intending to jab Paul a little. "Also, I hope you like kids, because as soon as he gets healthier, he's going to be adopting his godson. Who's two."

"Teddy?" Paul guessed.

"Bingo," Seth smirked.

"Balls," Paul replied, head hitting the table. He didn't particularly like children at all, actually.

"And he's also an anorexic insomniac," Seth continued. "Who may or may not be admitted to the hospital, based on if his doctors think he's healthy enough."

"Balls!" Paul repeated, louder, banging his head on the table for good measure.

– – –

_August 24, 1999_

Though it was traditional for the wolf to bring his imprint to the bonfire for the first time, two weeks after Paul's first conversation with Harry found the boy being carted to the bonfire by _Seth_. This, of course, didn't sit well at all with Paul, and he kept glaring at Seth, but Sam kept glaring at Paul, and so Paul refused to allow himself to lose his temper.

Harry was just fascinated with the legends. Since going to England, the boy had been even smaller and more frail than Paul had ever seen – it seemed like a grain of sand would snap the raven-haired boy in two. But his face lit up as he listened, and he curled up in the sand close to the fire, because the night was chilly even at the end of August.

When the bonfire was over, Paul found Harry and Seth talking a little ways off, out of hearing range. Seth looked a little upset, and was flailing his arms as he often did to make a point. Harry's arms were crossed. It looked to Paul as if they were fighting, so he made his way over there in order to come to Harry's aid.

"Hey," he said, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulder. The boy, who had been shivering, immediately stopped – he looked a bit uncomfortable, and definitely torn between pulling away and staying right where he was. It seemed like luck was on Paul's side, though, because Harry decided to stay. "What's wrong?"

"Paul! Tell Harry he can't go back to England," Seth cried, hands-on-hips. It was definitely a habit he'd picked up from Harry, because Seth had never done that before.

"What? You're going back to England?" Paul asked, cocking an eyebrow in curiosity to hide his panic. If Harry moved away... he wasn't even sure what happened to imprinted pairs who were separated for that long.

"It's not like it's my choice," Harry stressed. "I _have _to. Or they'll come here and get me and then leave," he said, shrugging. "Going of my own free will saves a lot of hassle. And tests to decided whether I'm sane or not."

Paul was lost, but Seth filled him in. "His doctors have decided he's not healthy enough to live on his own, and so he's been admitted to the hospital until he can gain at least–"

"At least twenty pounds," Harry said. Then, angrily, the boy pulled his shirt over his head. "Seth, you can _count _my _ribs. _I need to do this."

Paul was sickened, because Harry was right. He could see every rib, and on the boy's back you could count every vertebra in his spine.

Seth had turned somewhat green. He, apparently, hadn't known it was quite this bad. Harry tugged his shirt on, but it was crooked, and looked very upset.

"I thought you were eating," Seth accused.

"You try eating when all you see is blood and gore," Harry shot back, beginning to separate himself from Paul and Seth. "You try sleeping when all you can see is the faces of people you know who were murdered. Your friends and your family and complete strangers."

And then the boy was gone, down the beach and into the woods. For how skinny and sickly he was, the kid sure was fast, Paul thought.

He turned and grabbed Seth by his shirt. "Tell me what happened to him. Tell me!"

Seth struggled, whining low in his throat. "I don't know! I don't, I don't!"

Paul, disgusted, shoved Seth away from him and followed Harry.

But the boy was gone, which seemed impossible to Paul, and it would be months before they'd see him again.

––––––

_Review! C: Didn't notice how short this chapter was. O_O''_


	4. The Bleached Forest

_A/N: As a treat for getting to 100 reviews (holy cow, guys, 100 reviews for three chapters?) I'm uploading a second chapter today! C: This one's longer than the other, but it's a vital chapter - I hope you all know I wasn't planning on dragging out the story while Harry wasn't with Paul. xD _

_DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything you recognize. C:_

––––––

**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Four: The Bleached Forest.**

"_Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, _not _absence of fear." ~Mark Twain_

––––––

_December 12, 1999_

_Dear Harry,_

_I hear you're doing better and they may let you out of the hospital soon. We all miss you and hate seeing you like this, but it's really for your own good. It scared us so much when Ron got the owl that you were admitted into the hospital, because we were sure someone had attacked you. _

_I'm sorry we haven't written or visited, but the Healers were positive that if we did, you may rebound. Now that you're stable again, we're able to write, but we still can't visit yet. _

_Molly says you can stay at the Burrow when you're discharged, or you can stay with us. It's not recommended that you live on your own...but nobody can really stop you, I suppose. _

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_Love Hermione. _

–

_December 17, 1999_

_Harry,_

_Hermione thought you should know that Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped from Azkaban. They're reinforcing the wards on your hospital room and adding extra guards now._

_Ron_

–

_December 24, 1999_

_Dear Harry,_

_I can't believe they won't let you come home for Christmas! That's idiocy if you ask me. Spending time with your loved ones will do you good! It's as if you're a child who's done something naughty. _

_We've all sent along our Christmas presents for you, and I've been asked to pass along the thanks for the presents delivered to us – I assume you ordered them by owl order, and we cannot wait to see what they are!_

_Merry Christmas, Harry._

_With love,_

_Hermione._

–

_December 31, 1999_

Harry was curled up on his side in the hospital cot, eyes big and unseeing. There was a constant, sharp pain in his chest, something that made him wince every once in a while, but the Healers had said there was nothing wrong with him. He hated this place, where there was either everything wrong or nothing wrong or a pain in his heart was related to mental problems caused by Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which he apparently didn't have but they always brought up anyways.

He'd contemplated running away many times since he'd gotten into this place, but had managed to convince himself that it was for his own good. Now, it had been months and he'd gained several pounds – enough to cover his ribs near-completely. He was ready to go home. He was even sleeping well again! But ever since Bellatrix had escaped Azkaban, they'd had guards around his room twenty-four hours a day. They'd also taken his wand away, which meant he couldn't fight them. He could always shift into his Animagi form, which he hadn't liked using when he was underweight because the feeling of his animal skin clinging to him made it really uncomfortable. But he was registered, so he'd never get past the guards that way, either. He'd not really liked his Animagi form much at all, actually, because you can't use magic in that form. And if you're too injured, you sometimes switch forms from your Animagi form to your human one.

His Healer slipped in with a tray of food for him. That meant it was lunchtime, and his Healer was going to sit and watch Harry eat every single crumb before leaving.

Harry began picking at the food, nibbling. He could take as long as he liked, so long as it was all gone when he was finished. Once he'd taken four hours to eat a whole meal, but those days were over now – he'd realized that the longer he dragged it out, the longer he'd be in this place. It was hard, though, swallowing, because of that pain in his chest. He didn't bring it up.

"Healer," Harry mumbled when his sandwich was half gone. "If you don't let me leave by midnight, I'm going to leave on my own."

He'd said things like this before, but this time he was being honest. The Healer could tell it by his tone, and nodded slowly. "I don't recommend it," Healer Jones sighed. "But I suppose it is time for you to get back to reality. I'll have your wand for you when you're finished with lunch, and then you're free to go."

This is how Harry found himself outside the Burrow, standing in shin-deep snow, at little past one in the afternoon. He was a bit unsteady, mostly because he was freezing, somewhat because the pain now spread to his thighs, but otherwise he was well. His clothing was only a bit too big now, but Harry knew somehow that he'd never be the same weight he was before.

He knocked three times before opening the door. He had free access to the Burrow now, but he always knocked anyways, because it was habit. The people in the sitting room, which was across from the door, looked up.

And then he was passed gently from one pair of arms to the next, as if he was a delicate doll, and tentatively talked to like he'd be back in the hospital if they mentioned the word 'food' or anything edible, and there was an acidic feeling in the pit of his stomach as Molly mentioned lunch was done and he said he'd already ate and nobody believed him.

This wasn't what he wanted.

They were acting like it was his fault that he couldn't eat before, because he saw gruesome images of things nobody should ever think. They were acting like he was a feather that would bend and break and be swept away by the wind.

It irked him.

He wanted out, immediately.

But he put up with it for another two or three hours, nibbling on a blueberry crumpet and drinking some tea so that they'd all be satisfied.

Then he Flooed to Andromeda's house, where he was much happier to be coddled and cried over instead of having the gentle shoulder pats and sympathetic looks at the Burrow. His godson was also there, nearly three and very happy to sit in his godfather's lap, saying, "Unc' Howie! No more pokies!"

_January 1, 2000_

He woke up on the couch the next morning, curled up with Teddy. They'd apparently fallen asleep there last night after Andromeda had fed them a light dinner of noodles and unseasoned beef – it was rather delicious after the hospital food and Harry knew that Andromeda had been pleased to see him scarf it down like he'd never eaten before in his life. The pain was reduced to just soreness, but it was still there.

Over breakfast, Andromeda brought up the topic of Teddy's guardianship.

"Tonks and Remus wanted you to watch over him if anything happened to them," Andromeda began. "I took him because he was my grandchild and ...well, honestly, you weren't well. But now I think you should take him."

Harry shook his head back and forth, quickly, his appetite immediately ruined. He didn't know how to care for a child, and he didn't dare try and screw up. "Andy, you've done a great job. I can barely keep myself alive, what makes you think I can care for a toddler?"

She glared at him, and he winced a little, taking a bit of his sausage in order to refrain from looking at her. "Harry James," she said, and you know it's worse when they only say your first two names. "You're healthy now. You're eating, see? And I didn't even have to remind you. You can do it. And I'm too old to be taking care of a child. I've owl-ordered the guardianship forms, they'll be here by noon. And you'll sign them, you hear me?"

– – –

_December 17, 1999_

The sound of eight giant wolves crashing through the forest on the tail of something so sweet it burns like bleach is amazingly loud. Branches broke, digging into thick skin and creating gashes that bled for only a minute before healing over and barely scarring. Fur was pulled out, leaving bald spots but only for several minutes and then they were fur-covered again. One set of eyes saw through eight sets as their minds were connected, and it was dizzying and confusing but oh-so-clear at the same time.

Paul could see what was in front of him, but because his packmates were running with him, he knew from their minds what everything in front of them looked like. There was something in La Push that shouldn't be there.

More awareness entered his mind as Jacob shifted miles away, sending up a short howl as was protocol before taking off after the rogue vampire. Collin, whose mother didn't know he was a wolf, shifted seconds later – having had to practically sneak out – and then all ten of the wolves were there, practically unstoppable.

Two years ago, when the Volturi had targeted Jacob's Renesmee, there more and more wolves shifted. There had been a good forty of them as every male child with the gene shifted. But once the scents of the vampires sifted away, the children had lost the ability to shift and didn't even remember they'd ever had it. It was quite weird, but maybe only ten of them were needed to defend the reservation.

_To the right,_ Jacob thought, skidding to a halt and changing directions. _Something's off._

He was still a few miles away, but that didn't matter. They could all smell what he was smelling because of their mind connection.

It was like gallons upon gallons of bleach had been poured over an entire section of the forest – a somewhat large clearing. But – that would mean that dozens of vampires were in that clearing, and that simply wasn't possible. There'd been someone patrolling these woods every hour for the past six months.

It wasn't possible.

But, as Jacob reared back in shock and fear, they all saw the impossible: a clearing full of pale, beautiful bodies surrounding a two figures. One was male, and a vampire – the other was female, cloaked in a yellow-orange shimmer, but quite obviously human. As Jacob watched, one of the vampires lunged at the woman, but when he touched the shimmering shield, his fingers were singed off, smoking, and he screamed _so _loudly.

_Holy mother of god._ Leah thought. _That... is one powerful human._

_Thank you, captain obvious, _Jacob sneered. _Just-just give me a second ..to count.. _

It was more than they'd ever seen together at any one second save for when the Volturi was there, and it was amazing but there was no doubt about it:

None of these vampires were newborns.

_Fifty-four, _Jacob gasped. _Oh god. That is..._not _good._

_Thank you, captain obvious, _Leah snarled back.

_Contact the Cullens. _Sam ordered Jacob. _We need a neutral meeting to figure out what to do._

_January 1, 2000_

The Cullen house was packed. No pun intended – the whole pack, plus several newly-shifted members, and the Cullen family were all stuffed into the living room, debating what they were going to do. Esme was somewhat delighted to have someone to cook for again, because Renesmee didn't eat much human food.

"How did you not notice them all coming in?" Sam asked Alice as Carlisle asked Sam.

The room went quiet for a moment before Alice told Sam, "I don't see everything, you know, and most of La Push is cloudy to my vision because of how many of you run around there."

Sam nodded slowly, and then answered Carlisle. "I honestly have no idea how we didn't see it. We have at least two of us running patrol every hour of the day – but today is the first day that they're there, and we only caught the scent of one single vampire and that one led us to the rest."

"It was crazy," Jacob confirmed. "Like they were all there, but that was the only place they'd been. There were no trails from them walking, nothing on the trees, nothing. And then that human – oh god – she looked like she was glowing yellow or orange, and when one of the vampires tried to get at her, the glow _seared his fingers off. _It was ...crazy," he repeated.

Emmett blanched. "It was a human who did that?"

"Well, her heart was beating and she sure acted a lot like a human," Sam nodded. "But...it was weird. She was insane or something, she just looked _wild. _Like she wasn't even in her own head and didn't care what was happening."

"I've never heard of anything like that," Edward cocked an eyebrow, obviously reading everyone's minds. He looked torn between believing and calling them all liars. "That's incredibly suspicious, if you ask me. They can't all have just appeared there like magic, can they have?"

But that was exactly what had happened, even if none of them knew it yet.

––––––

_A/N: Review, por favor? C:_

QUESTION: What's your favorite HP fanfiction? Link me to it using the story number, or just tell me the name and author of it. It can be any rating, slash or het (though I prefer slash). C:


	5. The Punishments

_A/N: OOPS! Sorry! I missed a day ;3; I got messed up because I gave you two chapters in one day for getting me 100 reviews. P: Ohmai, I'm looking at these chapters and I keep going, "Okay, we're getting to the good part, woo- oh, I forgot I've written more than I've posted..." xD_

_Anywhos, thank you to all of my loverly reviewers who boosted me to 100 reviews after THREE chapters! x) _

_DISCLAIMER: Hehe, I own nufink. ^-^_

––––––

**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Five: The Punishments.**

"_Correcting bad habits cannot be done by forbidding or punishment." ~Robert Baden-Powell_

––––––

_January 2, 2000_

Harry wobbled unsteadily, a sleeping toddler on his hip. His chest was aching something terrible, but he'd had worse, and so he tried to ignore it (all the while wondering what the _hell _it might be). He shielded his godson for the most part from the snow with an amazing amount of clothing and his fingers, but it would still be best to get him inside soon. It wasn't exactly safe to apparate with toddlers, even sleeping ones, especially when you were planning on hopping the pond, so to speak. So Harry had decided to slip off to the Ministry of Magic, where an International Port-Key was set up and ready to take them to America.

Teddy had never been out of England – save for once, to go to Scotland for the War Memorial when he was one. Andromeda had hated it and swore never to go back, but Harry went every May 3rd – mostly because it was expected of him, but partially because he felt obligated to meet the families of those heroes who had been lost. So this was a first for the little boy, going all the way overseas where he didn't know anyone except Harry – maybe there were other children in La Push that would like to associate with Teddy? Harry didn't know how it worked, but when they were younger, Petunia had always organized play-dates for Dudley. Maybe Harry could do that...

The Atrium had always seemed kind of _golden,_ but now it was even more so. All of the lights hit the new gold-plated bronze statue of a group of creatures: one wizard, one centaur, one House-Elf, one goblin, a werewolf, a vampire, and a muggle. There was also a faerie, but it had fallen off and so the sculptors were making a new one.

It was late enough that there weren't many people bustling about the Atrium, but there were enough around him that his heart beat heavily. He didn't like the Ministry, not even now that there was a trusted Minister. It was too corrupt, had hurt him too many times – not to mention that his godfather had died several years ago deep beneath his very feet, and had not had his name cleared for years after that. All of these were reasons that he hadn't become an Auror. The Aurors were, of course, a government-run group, so they had connections to the Ministry and that was just something he couldn't handle.

(Not to mention he was tired of fighting and hadn't passed the psyche screening when Ron had dragged him along. He'd still been scarred from the war, as it had been only days after the Final Battle)...

"This way," a voice said at his elbow, and Harry looked up in shock to see one Draco Malfoy next to him.

The blond boy and himself hadn't had any animosity between them for a few years now. It was mainly because they'd gone through a horrific accident together – actually, it wasn't really that horrific, it just seemed that way at first. They had been arguing in Potions class (luckily Slughorn was teaching and liked them both, otherwise Harry would have had a thousand detentions from Snape) when Draco tried to rip the Newt Tails out of Harry's hands. They slipped into the cauldron, which then exploded over them both. When the burns and welts from that had been healed, Madame Pomfrey was able to see that both of them had been mutated – they'd grown ears and tails. Literally tails – more than one.

It wasn't so bad after a little while, knowing that Snape and Pomfrey _and _Slughorn (who was truly upset) were all trying to find a cure for it. They couldn't just chop the extra limbs out because the tails were attached to their spines, which could (at best) leave them paralyzed from the waist down. The ears, at least Harry's extra ears, had overrode his hearing through his _normal _ears, so it would be catastrophic to his hearing to just take them out.

After a long time (six or seven months), a cure had been found, but neither of them had really gone back to being enemies. They'd realized how childish they were. And it wasn't like they had anything to fight about, really.

"Oh, hi," Harry murmured, shifting Teddy's weight from one hip to the other.

"Come on," Draco responded, taking Harry's elbow and practically dragging him off to the side of the Atrium and into an antechamber. "Have you heard?"

"Heard what?" Harry wondered, busy unfastening the outer layer of Teddy's clothes. It was going to get warm, and fast, in this room.

"_Bellatrix Lestrange,_"Draco muttered, sounding exasperated. "She's totally fallen off the grid."

Harry cocked an eyebrow, but even now he felt his blood run cold at her name. He tried to play it off as indifference, but inside, he felt a cool hatred for the woman who had hurt so many...and hadn't gotten Kissed, executed, or anything other than time in Azkaban. The Dementors weren't even there anymore, they'd pretty much died out – there was only human guards now, which was no-doubt how she'd escaped in the first place. It made Harry flaming angry that she – and all the other murderers – would never have any punishment other than Azkaban time. It was like heaven to the Death Eaters, he bet.

"Well," Harry muttered. "If I find her before the Aurors do, you can bet your arse that they'll _never _find her."

Draco knew better than anyone how Harry felt. She'd murdered his mother – her own _sister._ In front of Draco, no less. All three boys in the room had been hurt by Bellatrix Lestrange, and Harry was going to get revenge – even if he went to prison doing it.

"Ah! Early!" called a boisterous man coming through the door. "Yes, I have your Port-Key here, hold it tightly as it will go off as soon as I say the words!"

"See you," Draco murmured quietly, but there was a vicious sort of hope in his eyes that told Harry that Draco, at least, hoped he'd find Bellatrix Lestrange before the Aurors.

Harry took hold of the Port-Key in one hand and tightened his grip on the toddler in his arms. Closing his eyes, he heard the man say something and then he was spinning.

– – –

Paul, who had been walking along the edge of the forest with Sam and Jared, suddenly jerked to a stop. He gripped his chest, because there was a suffocating feeling there – replacing the sharp pains that had indicated Harry was much too far away – and he couldn't breath. Jared and Sam looked on with big eyes as, for a second, Paul gaped like a fish and then suddenly regained his ability to breath. There wasn't any pain in his chest now, just a tight feeling. Paul knew what that meant: Harry was back in Washington.

"He's back," Paul told Sam simply, but a big grin darted across his face. He quickly covered it, hiding his embarrassment as the three men continued along. They were headed toward the forest, into a sort of no-man's land to confer with the Cullens a second time. Tension was high among the wolves because of the sheer amount of vampires in their territory. It was so bad that, if you heard something behind you and you knew that it wasn't your packmate, you just turned and attacked. There were no questions asked, because it literally was life and death when you were dealing with vampires.

"I still can't believe you imprinted on a boy," Jared snickered teasingly.

Paul rolled his eyes. The topic of Harry had been touchy for him at first, but after all of the teasing he'd endured, he'd gotten over it. "Yeah, well, neither can I. I'm just glad he's back."

Jared hummed. "How old is he?"

Paul cocked his head. "Nineteen, I think. Almost twenty. I thought he was fifteen at first, but Seth told me otherwise."

"Seth?"

"They're friends," Paul grumbled, wrinkling his nose.

"Be nice," Sam warned him, rolling his eyes as he led them to the clearing. Seth was visibly shaking, but not with anger – excitement. Paul knew, instinctively, that Harry had somehow contacted Seth so the boy knew that _Paul's _imprint was back. Paul also knew that Seth would probably be at Harry's house as soon as the meeting was over.

Paul snarled lowly, and Seth looked at him with bright eyes.

"Paul!"

"Seth," Paul murmured, voice deep.

"No, Paul, listen. Harry's okay again!" Seth chirped, bouncing on his toes like he was a two-year-old instead of a huge, fully-grown man (who happened to only be sixteen).

Paul cocked an eyebrow. "I know. He's back."

"No, I mean," Seth sighed. "You know how I told you he'd get custody of his godson when he was healthy again?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, he has custody of his godson!" Seth beamed.

Paul stopped short, wrinkled his nose, and groaned loudly. He really didn't like kids that much. And now he had to work around a child and Seth in order to even spend time with his imprint.

"Balls," Paul muttered as the Cullens appeared.

Emmett looked at him, amused. "Okay, then."

"He's just being grumpy," Seth informed them, smirking as Paul took a hit at him and missed. He didn't expect the second punch, which hit him in the ribs, knocking him onto the ground. He stood, scowling, and then threw a punch back – then they were in a full-blown fight over _what, _Seth had no idea.

"_Stop,_" Sam growled, alpha voice shining through. Though they could have kept going if their wills were strong enough, almost _no _wolf is stupid enough to go against his alpha's orders, and so they stopped. Seth wiped some blood from his lip, glaring. "Paul, how _many _times do I have to _tell _you? You'll be running double patrol tonight – with Jacob and then Embry – and Seth... stop provoking him. Just don't do it. Next time you're going to be running double patrol, too."

Paul didn't react to Sam's words at all. Instead, he just sneered at Seth. "You stay away from him, you hear?"

"You can't _force _me to stay away from my friends," Seth called back, a challenge in his eyes. He didn't care if he would have to run extra patrol – Seth was done allowing Paul to push him around. "He doesn't even _like _you, believe me, I tried to get him to come around."

Paul's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"That night before his ex-girlfriend's birthday? Yeah, we were laughing when you sat down because I had just told him that you liked him."

"You _what?_" Paul roared, lunging at Seth. The Cullens, standing at the edge of the clearing, were so confused.

"Hey!" Leah snarled, trying to separate them. "Punch your own brother, you idiot!" she got pulled into the fight, and all three of them were rolling around on the ground now. The sound of flesh against flesh could be heard, and grunts of pain as fists collided with guts, noses, jaws, anything really.

Sam, Jacob, Emmett, and Jasper went to work breaking up the fight. Sam was angrier than anyone had ever seen him, shaking as he tried to calm himself down.

"You two," he whispered, voice deadly calm. "Until you can work out _whatever _is wrong between the two of you, you'll both be running patrol – every hour on the hour."

"_What?_" Seth yelled, sitting up onto his knees.

"I warned you!" Sam growled, knocking Seth back into the dirt. "I warned both of you, I've warned you dozens of times. Maybe wearing yourselves out patrolling our land will remind you of why we're packmates in the first place. Get your sorry asses up and listen to the meeting, and then go patrol."

"But what about-" Paul began.

"No." Sam growled. "_Neither _of you will be seeing Harry until _both _of you can get along with each other. If you're going to act like three year old children, that's how you'll be treated. Get."

Paul and Seth rejoined the line of wolves. They were all somber and wouldn't look at either of them – though, Paul knew, they were all probably rejoicing at being relinquished of their patrol duties.

_If one night of patrol every hour on the hour is bad, _Paul thought, _and two nights of patrol every hour on the hour is terrible, _how the fuck _am I supposed to survive for the next _who knows how many _days and nights of patrol? _

Patrol was always bad. You had to skirt around the whole forest, making sure no vampires were in the area, every single hour for twelve hours. They patrolled in pairs, usually with people they worked well with. His favorite partners were Jared, Sam, and Leah – but he'd never been partnered with Seth before. And now he had to patrol with the chipper idiot for maybe weeks. Every hour. On the hour.

_I am not going to survive this._

_––––––_

___Review por favor _

_Last chapter's answer for me: Dangerverse by whydoyouneedtoknow, of course! ^-^ Though someone did recommend me an amazing fic called The Rise of the Drackens, which may just very well be my new favorite. xD I really want to write about Drackens But I'll hold off till this story is finished ;3 Or at least till I've written like...most of it. I would hate to leave you guys hanging again!_

_New Question: Along with your favorite stories (YES, keep sending them in, please), what country do you live in?_


	6. The Lethality of Beauty

_A/N: Sorry guys, this one is mostly filler to put Paul and Seth in the right place for the next chapter. That's why it's so short. xD' A little bit of Teddy though, so that's good. A little bit of Bella, too, but that's not as good. Dx_

_Story's gearing up now, though! But what you think is the end is not REALLY the end...you'll understand when it happens, don't worry._

_DISCLAIMER: Nope, still don't own anything!_

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Six: The Lethality of Beauty.**

"_Life is always a matter of waiting for the right moment to act." ~Paulo Coelho_

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_January 15, 2000_

Little did they know, Harry Potter had little time for either of them. Between caring for a toddler (which was a full-time job in itself), trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, and remembering to eat (his clock was now charmed to remind him), he had his hands full. By the time that he had Teddy all settled in and used to the Black Manor, Paul and Seth had worn themselves out so much that the time between patrols was spent sleeping, anyways.

Harry, his gloved hand in Teddy's mittened one, made his way down the sidewalk. The little boy had been begging to go outside in the snow since they'd arrived in Washington, but this was the first chance they'd gotten – when Teddy had come to Black Manor, Harry decided that he needed to work extra hard on getting the house safe. He scrubbed the floors free of the last remaining filth, scorched Slytherin emblems off the walls, shattered the Grandfather Clock that liked to pour scalding water on you as you passed by, got rid of the last few House -Elf Heads (which seemed to be a tradition amongst the whole Black family) and even ventured into the basement. The stinging teapot had gotten him four times before he'd been able to remove it from the shelf, and he'd had his hands nearly chopped off by a pair of cursed manacles, and he was pretty sure there was a skeleton in the closet...literally. But by and by, he got the basement cleaned up and then the house was safe enough for Teddy to wander through.

Not that Harry liked him wandering, anyway. Teddy was mainly restricted to the first two floors – the basement steps now had a charm on it that didn't let anyone under eleven years old pass through it, as did the stairs to the third floor. The third floor wasn't anything bad, it was just not really finished yet – Harry had begun remodeling the house and the third floor is where he started, so there was torn-up carpet, paint buckets, hammers and nails and a drill, a ladder, and so on. When it was finished, he'd have torn down most of the walls and made it into a library. There'd be a bathroom, and a fireplace in the middle of the room, with cozy chairs around it and books in the cases he planned to build into the walls. That wasn't all he had planned, though: he planned on having several walls coming out of the main foundation in a sort of pinwheel pattern that were also bookshelves.

One thing he'd noticed that every Black house had was books, and plenty of them. Some were dark arts, but he would rather have those in his possession than in anyone else's. Others were books on Animagi, Metamorphmagi, Elementmagi, and dozens of other magics that you could be born with – or had to study hard to accomplish. Hopefully when he was done, there'd be enough room for all the books from all the houses – though he may have to reinforce the floors because he was sure that that many books would weigh _quite _a lot.

They were walking down the sidewalk, he and Teddy. Teddy looked like a big blue marshmallow, but Harry found it rather cute. He had been worried Teddy wouldn't be warm enough, but knew that he shouldn't allow him to become warm enough to _sweat. _That was bad, but he couldn't remember why. So the boy toddled along, giggling because he was waddling like a penguin, warm but not too warm.

"What should we do today, Teddy?" Harry asked rhetorically. His godson knew a lot of words and liked to use them, but they didn't always make sense. "Should we go eat some lunch?"

"Lunch!" Teddy cheered, teetering over and falling into a snowbank. He looked up at Harry like, "what just happened?" and then struggled around to try and free his lower half from the snow. Seeing him begin to tear up, Harry pulled the boy out, cooing and telling him that it was okay.

Teddy, surprised, blinked at his godfather and then calmed down, forgetting about the incident immediately. Harry was amused, however, to see him avoid walking too close to the snowbanks after that.

"We need to find you some friends, don't we?" Harry asked quietly as they entered the diner. He ordered them lunch, and the woman behind the counter (who always seemed to be working) looked at him long and hard.

"Are you Harry Potter?" she wondered, her voice kind of rough.

Harry looked at her, surprised. "Uh – yeah – how did you..?"

"Leah Clearwater. I'm Seth's older sister," she said, shortly. "Listen, he and Paul Walker got themselves into a bit of trouble, so they're not allowed to really see their friends much right now until their punishment is over – just thought you should know that Seth's not ignoring you on purpose."

Harry nodded. "Thank you for telling me, Miss Clearwater. I hope they don't get into anymore trouble."

Leah pursed her lips and nodded, sliding the food over to him. She apparently knew about his eating disorder, because she hesitated and then said, "It's good to see you looking healthier."

Harry cracked the briefest grin and thanked her again.

– – –

_January 20, 2000_

Paul was half asleep. He stumbled over his own feet, falling face-first into some mud. Seth didn't laugh at him, or snort at him, because only minutes ago he'd done the same thing. They were making their way toward the clearing where they'd last met with the Cullens. Just outside it, he shifted and slid into his pants. He loved the way the snow felt on his feet, even though it melted as his skin touched it. The brisk coldness woke him up a little bit. It had been eighteen days of very little sleep – but today was the last day, Sam had said so, and that meant he could go see Harry soon!

The Cullens were already there, but he and Seth were the first of the wolves. Paul rubbed his eyes tiredly. He knew he looked a bit paler than usual, mostly because of lack of sleep, but also because as the length of time between the last time he'd seen Harry and now pushed on, the tightness in his chest began to ache and then sting, as if he was thousands of miles away instead of just around the block. He _knew _that he was just around the block because Leah had told him he was at the diner when she left – he almost always ate lunch there now, she said.

"Hey," Seth yawned, wiggling his fingers at the Cullens.

"What's wrong with _you?_" Emmett snickered.

"Been running patrol every hour on the hour for the last eighteen days. Part of our punishment," Seth responded, rolling his shoulders. "Sucks."

"That's cruel," Bella wrinkled her nose. Paul had never really liked Bella, because he thought she acted like she knew everything.

"That's what happens when you don't listen to your alpha," Paul responded. "We all know the consequences. If we behave, we'll be fine."

The rest of the wolves arrived quickly, forming a long horizontal line as they had last time. Sam began the meeting as soon as he arrived, going into detail about their latest news. The crazy woman only appeared in the clearing when she wanted to torture one of the vampires or when she wanted to rant about someone. _Someone _always seemed to be the same person – unnamed, undescribed, just 'the boy'. He was who they were targeting, and honestly, Paul felt bad for whoever he was. Having the wrath of fifty-two vampires (two had been killed by the crazy woman) and some sort of psycho didn't look good for him. At this rate, he would be torn into itty-bitty pieces.

"So we need to take them out," Emmett crooned, rubbing his hands together. "Fun, fun. But is there enough of us?"

"I doubt it, we got lucky last time," Sam replied. "I've been waiting on some more of the boys with the gene to shift – it seems like Cole Dane has come down with the symptoms, but other than that, it's just the fifteen of us."

Only five more people had shifted, even though there was fifty-odd vampires threatening the town. It didn't look good for La Push, as if the reservation couldn't recognize the threat it was under. It was almost sad.

"Can you call in any other vampires?" Paul wondered.

"No," Carlisle responded. "Calling in more of our kind would alert the Volturi to some kind of movement, and it's the _last _thing we need to remind them of our location."

"Right," Sam nodded. "Well...man, could we use some of those creatures from the myths."

Paul looked at Sam with his eyebrow cocked. "You don't even believe in the myths."

"Some of them," Sam rolled his eyes. "I believe in the one about the wizards."

"Wizards?" Rosalie scoffed. "Right."

"Hey," Jacob pointed at her. "If there are werewolves, vampires, and shapeshifters in this world – why can't there be wizards?"

"Because magic doesn't exist," Rosalie responded, nose wrinkled up as if she thought the mere idea of it was well below her.

It was at this exact moment that something came crashing through the trees, running faster than what a human should be able to. It was lithe and beautiful, and it stank of bleach.

Five minutes later it was dead, and there would only be fifty-one vampires to contend with now.

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_Review? C:_

_Last chapter: I'm in Michigan, in the US. _

_New Question: Keep sending me stories, I've been reading them! Also: What's your biggest pet peeve?_

~Kymmie


	7. Wolfish Dangers

_A/N: C: Heya! ^-^ This should be a scene ya'll somewhat remember from the original version!_

_DISCLAIMER: I dun own Harry Potter. C:_

––––––

**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Seven: Wolfish Dangers.**

"_Life doesn't hurt until you think about how much has changed, who you've lost along the way, and how much of it was your fault." ~Unknown_

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_January 20, 2000_

Paul was finishing the 7:00 patrol, more awake and fresh than he'd felt in eighteen days. This was because he knew that, in five hours, he'd be on his last patrol for three days. Three days gave him time to fill himself up on food and sleep _and _go talk to Harry. He pranced around, happier than happy, and Seth snorted at him.

_Stop acting like a puppy, _Seth teased.

_I will when you will. _Paul responded, looking at the boy who had his tail wagging crazily, tongue lolling out.

They were on the last loop, pushing their legs faster, and they were home-free. The end of the loop came to the middle of a small clearing, where Seth and Paul sat for a moment to catch their breaths.

Paul almost shifted. Almost.

And then he heard the _snap_ of a twig breaking and smelled something purely feline, and he was just so overjoyed at finally being done that he turned and decided to have a little fun.

The cat was a semi-small lion, fur smooth along its back and mane crusted in snow crystals. Paul was bigger than it, and the cat seemed to realize this at once, trying to turn and hightail it away. There was something familiar about those green, green eyes – but Paul couldn't figure out what.

He pounced.

The cat didn't like the game he was playing, batting it around and pulling its hair and tail. It yowled and tried to scratch and bit him. He grabbed the lion by its neck, shaking back and forth like a dog with its favorite shoe. The cat went suspiciously quiet, and limp – Paul felt bad because he hadn't meant to kill it, just play with it a little and beat it up a bit. He dropped it, stepping backwards.

One minute, he was staring at a lion. The next, the shape was blurring and shrinking, leaving behind a thin body on the ground. At first, Paul didn't register what he was seeing. But Seth did.

"Harry! Oh god, Paul, what did you do, what did you do–" the boy hadn't yet gotten his pants all the way on when he came racing towards the duo.

Harry looked terrible. Paul's heart practically shattered, looking at what he'd done. Claw and teeth marks raced up his back and ribs, bleeding profusely, dying the white snow around them red. His clothes were little more than rags, practically falling off of him. Paul's stomach rolled and he emptied the little amount of food that was in it into a nearby bush.

"I killed him," Paul mumbled, startled to find tears bubbling over his cheeks. "I just killed my imprint."

Seth shook his head, not looking at Paul. He pressed his ear to Harry's back.

"No, his heart – it's still beating – go call someone to get Dr. Cullen – _HURRY, _you idiot!" he screamed. The sound echoed through the forest, startling the few woodland animals that were still awake.

Paul did as he was told. He knew he was quite a sight, half-naked in the middle of winter and darting down the sidewalk. He practically broke into Sam's house, and the man was so startled at Paul's sudden appearance that he nearly fainted. Paul began speaking, hardly intelligible, and then just began screaming for Sam to call the Cullens and that he'd be in the woods.

He said it four times before Sam got the phone out, dialing. He darted back to the woods, where Seth was trying to stop the bleeding.

There was nothing else to do for now.

"How did he even – change –" Paul mumbled, brushing the blood-coated hair away from Harry's face. His face was virtually untouched, a bit plumper than the last time they'd seen him – but god, did it look much, much better. Paul hadn't noticed how sickly Harry had looked before until he _didn't _look sickly anymore. It was almost ironic.

Carlisle Cullen showed up with his medical bag and Edward at his side. Sam, from the opposite direction, came through the woods. All three men looked in shock at the boy on the ground, bleeding.

"What _happened?_" Sam demanded when Carlisle when to wrapping the wounds.

Paul explained quickly, too panicked to even have any shame for his actions. Sam was shocked into silence, but if anyone knew how Paul was feeling, it was his alpha. Sam had permanently scarred his imprint, and now wife, Emily – in an accident in his first days as a wolf.

"We should move him now," Carlisle said, standing. "We can bring him back to my house–"

"No!" Paul snarled.

"We can take him to my house and the two of you will be granted temporary freedom on La Push lands," Sam amended. "This is Paul's imprint."

Carlisle's eyes widened in understanding and he nodded slowly. Paul cradled Harry loosely to his chest and they took the long way around so that they could come out right in Sam's backyard.

Emily ushered them in after taking one look at Harry, throwing some old sheets over the couch so Harry could be laid on it and Carlisle could continue his work.

Seth sat down in one chair, but Paul sat right at the head of the couch and held Harry's hand.

– – –

Harry couldn't remember what had happened. He let out a tiny groan of pain and wrapped his arm around his ribs, a few of which felt like they were broken. There was something wrapped tightly around him, and he realized that someone had probably found him and taken him to a hospital – but what had happened to make him need a hospital? He couldn't remember what he'd been doing before getting hurt...

And this place didn't have that certain antiseptic smell that all hospitals had, so he immediately ruled that out. Blinking his eyes open, Harry struggled into a sitting position and suddenly had a thousand hands on him.

Or that's what it felt like, anyways.

"Gerroff," he mumbled, swatting at them all. Some were hot and some were freezing, and Harry wondered how this was because the room was neither cold or hot. Seth's skin was always hot like that, though, Harry remembered.

"Harry? Harry, are you okay?"

His head swam. "Gerroff," he responded, continuing to swat until all the hands were gone. He couldn't see, but after a moment his vision cleared and he looked around. The room – a living room – was cozy, and he was on the couch. Around him was Seth, Paul, a man he'd seen once in his driveway, and two other men he'd never seen. Paul was holding one of his hands and he quickly tugged it away.

"Where'm I?" he demanded, using his newly free hand to hold his head. "What happened?"

"You got hurt," the one he'd seen in the driveway responded. "Seth and Paul found you. We brought you here, to my house."

Harry squinted. Something didn't sound right in that statement, but he couldn't figure out what was wrong, so he just demanded: "What time is it?"

"Ten o'clock," the blond man he'd never seen said.

"TEN!" Harry yelled, shooting up. He regretted it, because it hurt, and he wobbled and fell back onto the couch with a soft cry. "I have to go, I have to go," he mumbled, one picture in his mind: his two-year-old godson waking up all alone in Black Manor.

His mind was clearing now and he remembered what happened.

Teddy had worn himself out playing on the ice, which Harry had reinforced just-in-case. He fell asleep around seven, and Harry decided to go for a short run in his Animagi form. It was only seven fifteen when he decided to circle around and go home, but he'd come across two giant – _giant – _wolves and had to stay put. He stopped, and accidentally stepped on something that made a noise, and then the bigger of the two had attacked him.

"It's not safe for you to leave. Just rest a little bit, okay?" the one he'd seen in his driveway said calmly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry ripped himself out of the man's grip. "_No, _I need to _go, _now!" he yelled, struggling into a standing position. He didn't know where the door was, but he tried to pass Paul and Seth anyways, thinking it was that way. Seth gently turned him around and sat him back on the couch.

"What's so important that you'll compromise your health for it?" he asked softly, patting Harry's head.

"My _godson, _that's what! He's in Black Manor all alone because he was asleep so I left him for fifteen minutes and then – and now – and he's all alone!" Harry's lip wobbled because he was just a terrible parent, and he'd known he would be, but Andromeda had still insisted, but now look at what had happened.

"Hey, hey, calm down – he'll be fine," the one from the driveway soothed.

"No, he won't! He's two!" Harry snarled, standing a third time. He barely got his arse up before someone pushed him down.

"I'll go get him," Seth told Harry. "Is the door unlocked?"

"N-no," Harry mumbled, shakily patting his pants for his keys. He realized they weren't his pants – didn't even fit him – and frowned. "The keys are in my pants," he said. "But these aren't my pants."

There was something else that was missing, too.

The sheath that had held his wand.

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_Review? C:_

Last Chapter: My biggest pet peeve is people trying to control other people. Or maybe guilt-tripping.

New Question: Guyyysss, keep sending me your favorite stories. Along with that, what is your favorite game? (Video, board, whatever)


	8. The Pink Elephant

_A/N: A little bonding, maybe? ;3 _

_Would you lot be terribly upset if I told you I was writing other stories than just this one? Oh, don't worry, I'm still ~4 chapters ahead of published chapters in this story, and I've still got plenttttty of ideas, but there's just some that don't fit in and need their own stories! O: [besides, I have become infatuated with creature!Harrys]_

_DISCLAIMER: I dun own anything you recognize. x) _

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Eight: The Pink Elephant**

"_Do not tell secrets to those whose faith and silence you have not already tested." ~Elizabeth I_

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_January 20, 2000_

The keys were located quickly, as was the wand sheath. Harry's panic subsided as quickly and silently as it had come. The men all thought that the sheath was empty, and that it had held a knife or something because they couldn't see Harry's wand – it had a Notice-Me-Not on it. Harry handed the keys to Seth, who then departed to go get Teddy.

Harry was introduced to the other men – Dr. Carlisle Cullen, Edward Cullen, and Sam Uley. Harry shied away from the doctor, because doctors were Healers and Healers worked for the Ministry, mostly. He reminded himself that Dr. Cullen was a muggle, and he didn't know if Doctors worked for the government or not.

Sam sat the rest of the stuff that had been in Harry's pocket on the table. A wrinkled photograph, a Galleon, and his wallet. Harry fingered the photo a bit sadly. It was water-stained now, likely from falling in the snow, but you could still see what it was.

It was Fifth Year. He was huddled up next to Sirius and Remus, and Tonks was behind Remus. Her hair was bubblegum pink. On the other side of Sirius was Hermione and Ron, and behind them Fred and George. Sitting on the floor in front of the group was Ginny, playing with Crookshanks, and in the background was Molly and Arthur.

Now half the people were dead. He touched Ginny's face lightly, and then Remus'.

"Who are they?" Paul wondered, watching his reaction.

Harry shrugged, and told the truth. "My family."

"You don't look like them," Sam stated bluntly, not meaning it in a mean way, just stating the truth. Harry bit his lip.

"Not all family is based on blood," he finally murmured. He explained to them who each person was. Hermione, his best friend. She would have been his sister-in-law if Ginny had survived, because Harry had no doubt he'd have married the redhead. Ron, his best mate, his brother in everything except blood, and Ginny's older brother. Fred and George, the infamous trickster twins who finished each others' every statements. Molly and Arthur, the duo who took him in when he was just twelve and had been practically caged in his Uncle's house (not that he told them that). Remus and Tonks, his godson's parents. Sirius, his godfather, his father's best friend.

It was nice to think of all of these people in a way that didn't relate them to the war. It was nice to talk about them to muggles, people who didn't know what he'd gone through or who he was, who didn't know about magic and just thought the people in the photograph were normal, happy, everyday people.

The didn't know that half the people in the photograph were killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, or that his godfather had been wrongfully imprisoned for twelve years before breaking out. They didn't know his parents had been murdered by the same man who'd tried to kill Harry for nearly eight years before Harry was able to kill him. They didn't know he was famous, or that Remus was a werewolf and Tonks had been a Metamorphmagi, or that Fred and George owned a world-famous joke shop.

His heart panged with these thoughts, and he chastised himself for always ruining good things. Right as he was thinking that, the door popped open and Seth came through, carrying his godson.

At some point, the man named Edward had left, and Sam's wife Emily had come down the stairs in her nightgown and offered them some food. The other boys all said yes, and Harry carefully murmured their statements (he wasn't hungry but Teddy might be), while Dr. Cullen came to stand in front of Harry.

"I need you to be very careful for the next few weeks. The stitches I put in will dissolve on their own when they're no longer needed, but it is possible for you to accidentally pop them – and that _will _be painful and bloody," the blond man explained. "We didn't want you to leave earlier because we were waiting to see how you were, but now I think it's unfair of us to keep you from leaving. Do you have someone who can come bring you home?"

Harry, looking at the sleepy toddler on his lap, shrugged. Maybe he could pretend that Hermione and Ron were visiting and would be in a hotel for the next few days and they could come get him? But in reality they'd just be apparating from England, and would apparate back once he was home?

And he definitely wasn't keeping those muggle stitches in. As soon as he was out of their sight, he'd call someone to come heal him – he was _not _healing the muggle way, even if it meant avoiding everyone here for the next several weeks.

Harry rolled his shoulders, wincing a little, and then mumbled, "Can I just – can I just borrow your phone?" to Sam.

Hermione wouldn't be happy to be woken so late at night, and Ron even less so, but he knew that he could count on them to pick him up. He eyed the people around him with wariness as the phone rang, and rang, and then finally Hermione picked up.

"Mmmhello?" she asked sleepily.

"Hermione?"

"Harry?"

"Yeah, Hermione, listen, can you or Ron or someone come get me? I kind of – I kind of got into an accident and need someone to take me home."

Behind his eyes, memories of a giant wolf flashed, and he knew he'd have to tell her what _really _happened, but not right now.

"What?" she asked, immediately more awake. "Harry, are you okay? Tell me where you are, Ron and I will come get you – what was it? Did they–"

"Hermione," Harry murmured calmly. "I'm fine. I think. A doctor stitched me up. I just need you to come get me. I'm in La Push, like a mile or two away from my house."

"Alright. Give me a second. You let a doctor stitch you up? That's not like you, Harry, you don't like doctors.." there was a rustling sound that meant Hermione was getting dressed, and in the background she was telling Ron she needed to pick me up.

"I know. I was kind of unconscious, otherwise I would have made sure you were there or something – but if you could please just pick me up, I'd be really grateful."

There's a crack and Harry knows she's Disapparated with her cell phone. "I'm on my way. Where is it?"

Sam took the phone and gave her directions, and soon she was knocking on the door. As she stepped in, Sam bid Dr. Cullen a good night and the man went to leave. But her eyes fell on him and widened slightly.

"Dr. Cullen!" she exclaimed, mouth popping open slightly.

"Ms. Granger?"

"Mrs. Weasley, now," she corrected smartly, and smiled. "It's so nice to see you!"

"You two know each other?" Harry and Sam wondered at the same time.

"Yes," Dr. Cullen murmured slowly. "Mrs. Weasley and I worked together for a time when she was an intern. I presume you're a full ... _doctor_ now?" the man's eyes were looking back and forth between Harry and Hermione.

"Yes, _doctor,_" Hermione nodded. Harry could tell something was going on between the two of them, because Hermione didn't generally emphasize her words so much.

"Does he know–" Harry blurted, and both Hermione and Dr. Cullen nodded.

So the good doctor knew about magic, then. But he was a muggle, so that was against the law.

"But you're a–" Harry protested, confused. Hermione shook her head, warning him against talking so close to prying ears. He closed his mouth, lost.

"I'll explain when we get you home. Come along, Harry James," she said, a little bit exasperated. "How you get yourself into these situations is beyond me, if Molly were here she'd be having a cow."

"...okay," Harry gave in, not resisting, because he knew that when they got to his house she'd heal him and perhaps make him some tea because she was the _best _tea-maker in the world.

– – –

After the trio left – Harry toting Teddy along – Dr. Cullen smiled serenely at Paul.

"I believe I know how it is you imprinted on a male, Mr. Walker," he stated gently.

Paul looked at him, mind still whirring from the conversation Harry, Mrs. Weasley, and Dr. Cullen had just had. It was mostly lost on him, but he somehow felt that there had been a pink elephant in the room that everyone but he (and perhaps Seth and Sam) had seen.

"How?" he demanded.

Dr. Cullen just continued smiling and shook his head. "You will see in time, I know. Confide your secret in him and he'll confide his in you, I'm sure. He may be more hesitant, however, because of the laws in his world. That's all I'll say on the matter. Goodnight."

And then the vampire was gone, and Paul was more confused than ever. Sam bid himself and Seth a good night and then the trio parted ways, each lost in their own thoughts.

All Paul could think about was the wolf who had imprinted on a creature whose male sex could bear children. But that was impossible, so why couldn't Paul shake it out of his head that his imprint might be one of those creatures?

Little did he know, the pink elephant in the room had been _magic, _and magic is capable of many, many feats.

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_REVIEW! C: _

_Last Chapter: Hrrmm... I'd have to say Pokemon. I know! But really, it's the only game that I find myself drawn back to time and time again. I could play it for hours on end._

_NEW QUESTION: Send me your favorite non-crossover fics, por favor! And... what is your favorite crossover pairing and your favorite Harry Potter pairing? C: _


	9. The Second Head

_A/N: Paul seems very used to seeing little boys with purple hair. Yay for the author being tired when she wrote this chapter! (Also thanks so much for boosting us up to 200+ reviews!)_

_DISCLAIMER: Don't own anyfink you recognize! _

––––––

**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Nine: The Second Head**

"_Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them." ~James A. Baldwin_

––––––

_January 21, 2000_

The clock on the wall across from him read midnight exactly. Teddy had been put to bed and tea had been made before Hermione spread him out on his bed, wearing only boxers ("Oh, don't be silly, Harry James Potter. It's not as if I haven't seen you naked before!" "Hermio_neee,_" "Do you want to be healed or not, hmmm?" "...fine..."), and began to remove his bandages.

He could practically feel her cringing. He was trying not to move, because removing bandages stings like all hell, especially when your wounds are still bleeding when you put them on. The blood practically glues the bandages to you, meaning you have to pull and tug to get them off...it sounds disgusting, and it really is.

Harry could hear her banishing them as she pulled them off, knowing her nose was wrinkled up. When all was said and done, Hermione could barely bear the sight of blood (Merlin knows why she became a Healer). When the bandages were all off, she went to work removing the stitches – and bullocks, did that hurt.

Harry tried to entertain himself with the thought that he'd been stitched up by _Dr. Carlisle Cullen, _the vampire Hermione had previously interned under. Harry wondered what a vampire was doing being a doctor, but Hermione had soothed him with the fact that the Cullen family (that's what they called themselves, apparently, instead of a coven) drank animal blood, not human blood. That didn't really soothe Harry, because now he knew that he'd have to watch out for vampires _and _giant wolves when he went out in his Animagi form.

Harry closed his eyes tightly when he felt the last of the stitches leave. He was bleeding again, but that was okay – he knew Hermione was a wonderful Healer and he trusted her with his life. Something as small as a little blood was nothing.

"So tell me again what happened," Hermione prodded, her cool, familiar magic washing over his back. He shivered slightly.

"I put Teddy in his bed because he was asleep and decided to go running for ten or fifteen minutes. When I was looping back around to come home, I had to stop and wait because there were two giant wolves – don't look at me like that, Hermione – two giant wolves in the clearing. I must have made a noise because one of them came up and just started attacking me, and you know that you can't use magic in Animagi form. I was going to shift back, but it had me by my neck and I knew that the moment I changed, my neck would probably snap. So I didn't. And then Seth and Paul found me unconscious in the same clearing, I'm guessing, and I woke up in their house three hours later."

Hermione hummed, rubbing some Anti-Scarring cream on his back. It stung, but he knew it would help make sure he wouldn't have any scars. Or, at least, make the scars less visible.

"How big were these wolves? Did they seem unnatural?"

"I don't bloody well know, Hermione," Harry said, exasperated. "I was too busy panicking because there was a bloody wolf shaking me around like a dog with a dog toy. They were bigger than my Animagi form, almost twice its size. I guess that's unnatural."

"They may have been shapeshifters," Hermione decided. "La Push used to be a purely Wizarding reservation. In fact, the Blacks used to live here – until one of the early Blacks was disowned and then they all moved back to England, save for him. Most of the magic died out, but it was well-practiced for the Wizards of this reservation to become Animagi. Did you know, if two Animagi of the same species mate, their child will be able to naturally shift into that species?"

"I didn't, no," Harry responded, shoulders tense. "So you're telling me... that when all the magic died out in La Push, the Animagi gene was still passed down, allowing the children of La Push to shift?"

Hermione tutted slowly. "No, not all of them. All the people of La Push – well, all the people of Quileute descent, at least – have the Animagi gene. The gene is always passed on, but usually it's dormant. Mostly boys inherit the active gene, because the gene is more recessive in girls. Generally, the boys wouldn't even know they had the gene unless they had the urge to protect the reservation."

"Okay...so the reservation is in danger, then," Harry picked up. "Of what, though? And most Animagi aren't that big."

"Well, it could be any number of things, but usually it's another magical creature invading their space. The Cullens are vampires, Harry. Vampires are the number-one dangerous magical creature. That would force the boys with active genes to shift," she paused, saying an incantation over his back. "And that's because they're _not _Animagi. Over the years, the gene has probably mutated. It makes them bigger, more dangerous. They're plenty different from Animagi, which is why this particular situation is called shapeshifting."

Harry closed his eyes and thought on this for a moment, before humming. "Is that normal?"

"What? The birth of shapeshifters? Not particularly," she murmured quietly. "There's only a few of them left, because the knowledge of Animagi is nearly dead. Thousands of years ago, everyone became an Animagi. It was a required study."

"But that was well before the magical lines thinned out," Harry pointed out. "We're weaker now."

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "Much, much weaker."

– – –

_January 23, 2000_

"Okay, get serious," Sam growled. His wolves were play-fighting, oblivious to his stress. It wasn't every day that he allowed the Cullens to bring in an army of vampires. "The Cullens have agreed to bring in fifteen more vampires – so adding that to their eight and our fifteen, that's only thirty eight. The army in the forest has twelve more than that, and it may not seem like a lot, but _vampires. Are. Vicious. _We've got to pull together and brush up our combat skills."

Another vampire had died by the crazy woman's fire-shield – that's what the wolves had decided it was – which meant they were down to 50 vampires and the crazy woman. By agreement, they had decided to ignore the woman and focus on the vampires. One woman couldn't do as much damage as fifty vampires, no matter how hard she tried, even with a fire-shield.

"It's only been three years," whined Seth. "Why can't you just train the new five?"

"Because you all are getting out of shape," Sam snarled. His wolves bristled at the insult, but it was true – everything around here had been pretty peaceful until the vampires appeared, so their reflexes had no-doubt suffered.

Within minutes, he had them fighting each other – singles, pairs, triples. Three on three seemed to be the best, but they had to play the tag-team version because that left three wolves out.

Sam couldn't wait until their numbers were even again. Soon, he hoped. A few more of the boys in town had fallen ill with the symptoms, but somehow the crazy woman was keeping the vampires from making the majority of wolf genes appear. He didn't know how it was happening, but it was crazy annoying – so much so that he was about ready to get the Cullens and their vampire army to march through the streets of La Push just to get more wolves shifted. If it happened like last time, he hadn't a doubt that they'd all lose the ability once the threat was gone, anyways.

_Chin up, alpha, _Paul called sarcastically. _I'm sure we'll all survive this, somehow._

The problem was, the longer they drew out the impending battle – for there _would _be a battle, Sam hadn't a doubt about that – the more danger La Push was in. He didn't know when they planned to attack, but hopefully they would put it off for long enough that Sam could rally his troops.

God only knew when that would be.

– – –

Paul took long strides up the drive to Black Manor. It'd been a few days since he'd seen Harry, so he wanted to make sure everything was okay. The girl, Mrs. Weasley or Hermione or whoever, had taken him home, but he wasn't entirely placated with just that fact. He knocked thrice on the door and within moments it was pulled open by a small boy in pajamas.

The boy's hair was wild, bright purple and sticking in every direction as if he'd just woke up. His heavy eyes looked up at Paul with curiosity, and then he yawned and toddled away, leaving the door wide open.

Paul raised his eyebrows and looked around the door for a doorbell. He didn't find one, so he decided to just go in – it worried him that nobody save for Harry's godson (Theo? Tyler? No, wait, Teddy!) had come to the door.

He needn't have worried, though, he found. Inside, he followed the toddler to the kitchen, where he found Harry asleep with his head on the table, looking utterly exhausted.

Teddy was prodding Harry awake, whispering something. Paul's ears picked it up: "Unc' Hoooooowie... summun's here."

Harry mumbled something under his breath that Paul couldn't decipher, before opening his eyes. Paul knocked on the kitchen wall a little sheepishly.

"Uh, hi," he murmured.

Harry blinked sleepily, looking at Paul as if he had two heads. "What're you doing here?"

Paul shrugged. "I came to check on you, and your godson here answered the door. He left it wide open, so I took that as an invitation to come in."

Harry leveled his gaze on Paul's eyes, before standing. "Well. I'm fine, if that's what you're asking. Thank you for checking on me."

"Haven't you been sleeping well?" Paul wondered, looking around. The kitchen was spotless, as was the rest of what he'd seen of the house. Maybe Harry had been cleaning and it wore him out?

"What? Oh. I had a late night last night, that's all," Harry yawned again, as if cementing his story in place, and then offered Paul some tea. Paul, who wasn't all that fond of tea, declined (but Teddy cried for some, so Harry poured a toddler-sized cup of strawberry iced tea for the boy, spinning a sippy top on top of it and handing it over).

Watching Harry interact with his godson made Paul happy, which confused him. The happy-confusion made him wonder what the hell was wrong with him, and he was so deep into his thoughts that Harry had to say his name several times before Paul looked up, shaking out of his stupor.

"Sorry," he mumbled, eying Teddy suspiciously. He didn't like children. Seeing children should not make him happy. Maybe Teddy was a witch. Er, warlock. Bewitching him with some sort of – some sort of happy spell or something. "What'd you say?"

"I was wondering if there was anything in particular you needed, or if you had just planned on sitting at my kitchen table all day," Harry chirped wryly, cocking an eyebrow.

Paul jumped up, shocked and a little embarrassed, before blurting the first thing that came to mind: "I was just wondering if you wanted to come to dinner with me tonight?"

Harry wasn't expecting this, and the knife he was using to slice up an apple for his godson slipped and nicked his palm. "Bloody hell," Harry cursed.

"Bloody hell!" Teddy cheered, and it was just so amusing that Paul couldn't help but to laugh as Harry gaped and chastised the boy.

"No, no, that's a naughty word, we don't say that!"

"Bloody hell?" Teddy asked, a bit confused.

"Yes, that. Grandma Andy would be very upset if she heard you say that," Harry told him seriously, making big eyes and trying to convince him as Harry set out the apple slices.

Teddy picked one up and munched on it, before saying, "'Kay."

Paul watched all of this, barely able to keep his laughter in. Harry turned to him, hands-on-hips and very unhappy.

"See what you taught my godson?"

"What? You said it, not me," Paul protested.

"Well, yes, I suppose," Harry pouted softly. "Fine, I'll go."

"What?"

"I'll go with you," Harry gave him that look again, the one that made Paul want to check and see if he really had grown a second head. "To dinner? You just invited me, like, three minutes ago."

Paul blinked. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Oh," Paul agreed, and then Harry looked at him with mirth in his eyes.

"You are one interesting man, that's for sure, Paul Walker."

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_Review! C:_

Last Chapter: Fenrir/Harry or Bill/Harry and crossover pairing is definitely Emmett/Harry. (Which I don't write or read much of because I really hate how dumb everyone makes Emmett seem and I hate reading/writing Bella/Edward/Renesmee/Rosalie and such.)

New Question: If you had to kill off one of the main-ish HP characters, who would it be? You cannot choose: Dumbledore, Ginny, Ron, Molly, Hermione, Voldemort, or Draco.


	10. A Terrible Night

_A/N: Remember what I said about it not being the end..._

_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. _

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Ten: A Terrible Night**

_"Beware the man who doesn't ask you any questions about yourself on your first date." ~Merrill Markoe_

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_January 23, 2000_

Now, Harry had never been on a date with a man – or a muggle man, at that. He was rushing around, trying to figure out what to wear, wondering if it would be terrible rude just to turn around and cancel on Paul. On Wizarding dates, Harry wore robes, but he somehow thought that that wouldn't be appreciated on a muggle date.

And it wasn't anything fancy, either. Paul knew that Harry's favorite restaurant was the diner, and before he'd left he told Harry that's where he was going to go. With his brows crinkled, Harry decided to just wear what he usually would – dark t-shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers. The diner wasn't formal, after all.

Teddy was sitting on the floor sucking his fingers, and to Harry the toddler looked kind of amused. (_Of course, Harry, toddlers are always amused, _he grumbled to himself, shaking his head). "You, my dear," Harry told the small boy, "are going to visit grandma. Does that sound fun?"

The one problem with not having any adult friends or family in America was that Harry had to floo Teddy to England on the rare nights that he needed (or wanted) to do something. Andromeda was always happy to have Teddy, and sometimes she even shooed him out before he could say goodbye. If she was so attached to the boy, why had she let Harry take custody?

Rationally, Harry's mind knew why the woman wanted him to have custody so badly, even if it hurt her. She was following her daughter's last wishes – and her daughter (and son-in-law) had wanted Harry to take care of their baby. It hurt Andy a lot to know that they had picked Harry and not herself... since Teddy was her last piece of Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin. Harry sat hard on the floor, emotions overtaking him.

He tried not to cry, and a lot of the time he succeeded, but it was just kind of ironic to him. He'd lived – against all odds – but his whole family had been taken from him, everyone he had loved – gone. James and Lily, Sirius and Remus, even Ginny. He'd been allowed to live, but what was living when you didn't have your family? It was like Fate's way of screwing him over again and again and again.

A few tears trickled down his face before Harry drew in three deep breaths and then exhaled, slowly, reigning control over himself again. He refused to have a pity-party. He was alive, wasn't he? But, of course, Dumbledore had always _said _to pity the living and not the dead.

Shaking his head to get out the contradictory thoughts, Harry brushed his hair down as flat as it would go before Flooing with Teddy to Andromeda's.

The woman was only too happy to take him, cooing and making a fuss, and then sending Harry on his way. Harry bit his lip as he did floo, because an uneasy feeling had filled his chest. At first he blew it off as the feeling he got every time he'd left La Push – but after a moment he realized it felt different. He was worrying.

And a worried Harry was never good.

– – –

Paul picked him up at six-o'clock sharp, smiling and wearing actual pants for the first time Harry could remember. They were a little too tight, but Harry said nothing as the bigger man offered his hand out.

"Ooh, a gentleman, hm?" Harry asked, teasing, and then placed his hand in the palm of Paul's.

For a moment they both just stared at it – much smaller than Paul's, looking nearly pure white against Paul's dark hand. Then, Paul's fingers gently closed around Harry's, and they looked up at each other.

"Uh–" Harry laughed, trying to push the awkward tension away. Paul was looking at him with such dark, intense eyes.

"I really like you," he said suddenly, brown eyes roaming over Harry's face as if waiting for a bad reaction.

"You don't – you don't know me," Harry said shakily. "You can't like someone you don't know."

"Sure you can," Paul protested. "Don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Harry's throat tightened at the implications of Paul's words. He wanted to scream and shout: 'Of course I do! But my chance is gone now, my Ginny is gone now!' but, for some unexplainable reason, he said nothing, just shaking his head slowly.

"Well, I do," Paul smiled slightly. "Come on."

Harry was glad that Paul hadn't outright said: "I love you." He would have been freaked out beyond compare and maybe he'd have even turned and high-tailed it back home again.

They slid into a booth together and Paul sat their tray of food down. Harry had tried to help carry it, but the man had just pulled it out of his reach before he could do anything. Harry thought it was almost cute – _except not really_, his mind told him, because Ginny was cute and Paul _isn't _Ginny. Harry srubbed his eyes in irritation. He'd been having thoughts like these since he'd been in the hospital: comparing everybody to somebody else, mainly dead people, and commenting on how they weren't good enough. He'd brought it up once to his Healer, but the man had told him that he was probably just in denial about ...well, about everything.

But it was still hard for him to look at, say, Seth and compare him to Sirius (from what he'd heard, the two were very similar), and then just be so closed off the rest of the day. Harry knew it would hurt Seth's feelings if he ever caught on, but his mind just wouldn't let him rest. Now that the images while he was eating didn't effect him, his mind had to come up with a new way to torment him.

And he was liking this way even less, but at least it didn't physically harm him. Just took away every chance of having a friend.

"Harry?" Paul asked, eyes narrowing with worry.

"S-sorry," Harry gasped. "I got caught up in my own thoughts. Sorry."

Paul eyed him with curiosity, but didn't push. He was always doing things like that when Harry was around him: every word, every slightest frown or smile, and Paul would be curious or interested. Like Harry was the only thing in the world that interested the man.

"So what do you do for fun?" Paul asked, cutting through Harry's thoughts again. Probably for the best, as Harry could get caught up rather easily.

"I...well, nothing, I guess. I'm remodeling the third floor of the Black Manor into a library," he added, swirling his fork in some mashed potatoes. "And I take care of my godson. Teddy."

Paul nodded slowly, chewing on some food. "A library?"

"A library," Harry repeated, affirming this.

"You like to read?"

"Sometimes," Harry laughed. "It's more of the fact that my family has – had – a lot of books. They were all bookworms. So I want a place to keep them all."

"And you need a whole floor." It wasn't a question, but there was doubt in Paul's eyes.

"I'm talking _generations _worth of books," Harry explained lightly. "Hundreds of years."

Paul cocked a smile. "So your family is that old, then?"

Harry nodded.

"Mine, too," Paul responded, looking down at his plate. He had decided to drop some subtle – _very _subtle hints about his heritage and his life as a shifter, seeing how Harry would react. "They can trace us all the way back to Taha Aki and his wives."

Brief confusion spread over Harry's face, replaced quickly by doubt and then feigned curiosity. "I thought those legends were fake?"

Harry was in internal-panic mode. Hermione had told him about the Quileutes – about how some of them may be able to shift into wolves. Later that night he'd brought up the legends and Hermione said they were likely to be true, to some extent. The wolf spirit may have been a Patronus, for example, as often your Animagus form is the same as your Patronus form. But she'd also said that Taha Aki was likely to be the first of the shapeshifting Quileute.

Paul shrugged. "Some of them, I guess," he decided, rather quietly. "What do you think?"

"I think... I think..." Harry struggled to find something that wouldn't hurt Paul's feelings. Luckily, he was saved from responding by a loud, loud howl.

"That sounded rather close to town," Harry said, deciding to try to distract Paul from his question.

"I'm sorry, Harry, listen, I've got to go," Paul said. There was a fleeting look of terror on his face, but Harry didn't have time to question it as the man stood and practically fled the diner. Harry swore that he was unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

– – –

Paul darted off into the woods. He'd murder Embry if that warning call was fake, a joke. He'd just been getting closer to Harry, god dammit!

The most temperamental wolf began shaking with rage, and he hadn't even gotten his pants all the way off before he burt into a gigantic gray wolf. His feet were flying before his mind had connected with the rest of the pack's.

But when it did, another tongue of terror licked through his body.

The vampires weren't in the clearing, and the Cullen's army hadn't all arrived yet.

_Oh, fuck._

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_Review! ;3_

Last Chapter: Peter Pettigrew. Umbitch if I could, but Pettigrew will always go first.

New Question: Favorite line or two of lyrics in a song?


	11. A Sky of Green

_A/N: C: Miss me? Oh...it's just been a day! Well, I've actually not been writing anything in this story for the past 5 or so days, just been updating what I have. Tomorrow I post the last pre-written chapter, but luckily I have no school for the next three days, so I can work on it some more! Yay~_

And remember, what looks like the end is not always the end.

_DISCLAIMER: I dun own anyfink. c8_

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**The New Dawn**

**Chapter Eleven: A Sky of Green**

_"It seems that fighting is a game where everybody is the loser." ~Zora Neale Hurston_

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_January 23, 2000_

Paul took off toward where he could feel his packmates and the Cullens grouped. The Cullens had managed to get eight of their 'army' members to La Push, but it seemed like their time was up. That left – sixteen vampires and fifteen wolves. Thirty one against fifty.

_How did this happen? Weren't we patrolling?_ Paul was shouting in his mind. There was a clawing fear in his belly and his mind kept flashing to Harry, Harry, Harry. What would happen if he was killed? The imprint bond was strong, and Paul knew that if Harry died, he'd be in terrible mental, emotional and physical pain for a long time.

_Calm down, _Sam hissed. _It's kind of hard to contain fifty vampires when only two wolves are patrolling. We knew this would happen, remember? We knew that, when they began to leave the clearing, we'd have to back down and regroup._

Paul's mind tried to calm itself, but he found that he couldn't make his heart slow down. They had known it – they'd planned on it, actually.

_We're going to fight, aren't we? _Seth asked.

Paul could hear Edward echoing everything that was said, but otherwise the clearing was silent. A harsh wind blew across the dry grass. The trees were so dense in this part of the forest that the snow hadn't managed to penetrate past their branches and touch the ground.

_We are,_ Sam rumbled low in his throat.

Paul looked at Edward. The man-slash-boy (because really, a seventeen year old wasn't a man) was telling the vampires that they would be fighting.

_Good luck,_ Paul thought. They'd all need it. There weren't enough of them to fight two-on-two, so they'd be alone...and likely one-against-two. _Stay away from the crazy lady._

Edward nodded, lips quirking in a smile, and then the vampires were gone.

The wolves huddled into each other, brushing against one another for good luck. Then, with dread in each of their stomachs, the wolves filed out.

Paul was fighting immediately.

Fifty vampires were swarmed like infectious larvae in all parts of the forest. They weren't leaving it, they were _waiting _– for something. However, that didn't mean that _inside _the forest was off-limits, because as soon as they saw you, they attacked.

This man was blond, and angrier than Paul had ever seen a vampire. They all seemed riled up, like they couldn't wait to get their teeth into something but hey just couldn't reach it.

Paul attacked forcefully, hating how the man had to speak as he fought.

"You! There is no use attacking me when the rest of the army is still alive. We will get our revenge!"

_Revenge?_

As if answering his thoughts, the blond man hissed out,

"We've been waiting two long years for our mistress to escape, for the ability to avenge the death of our Lord. He who killed the Dark Lord shall perish at the hands of one thousand vampires!"

_Alright, now that's just plain dramatic, _Paul thought with a snort. Behind him, he heard what could only be Edward's laugh – which wasn't good, because the woman Edward was battling was twice his size and took that moment to batter him around pretty good.

Paul wanted to tell the blond in front of him that there were only _fifty _of them, that nobody said 'shall' anymore, and the Dark Lord was a movie cliché and he should _probably _get his head checked out. As it was, he didn't have a human voice right now, and instead just growled some more and took a chunk of hard skin off the vampire's shoulder with his teeth.

Something bit his leg – by the searing pain in his calf, which only vampire venom could cause, Paul knew that it had been a vampire. It wasn't the blond vampire in front of him, but a ginger with a bad attitude who was apparently the blond's mate.

It was near-impossible to fight them both at the same time, so Paul found himself slashing back and forth. It was hard, very hard, because every time he got a one-up on one of them, the other would pop their arm back into socket and bite him again.

He had a feeling this wasn't going to end well.

– – –

Harry knew something was wrong as soon as Paul left. He didn't spare a second glance at the food before him, instead running out the door. Nobody was on the streets because it was just much too cold. Harry hadn't noticed it earlier, when Paul was next to him, but now he was shivering in his clothing.

On the last turn to his house, he stopped flat. People were coming out of their houses, whispering and pointing, and Harry dreaded looking up.

But there was only one thing that could cause this much attention and fear, and that thing should not be in the sky, _especially _not above his house –

He looked up.

The sky was covered in thirty or forty Dark Marks, and it made Harry sick. All the lights in his house were on. He'd turned them all off. But the wards wouldn't let anyone who meant him harm in – they couldn't – he grasped his wand tightly and shoved his way through the crowd and surging into his house.

He had his hand ready to cast a Killing Curse, but Ron was the first person he saw.

"Harry."

Relief flooded Ron's face.

"We thought you were – that you were –"

"Dead," Harry said bluntly, almost coldly. "I know. I saw the Marks. But I'm not dead, so who is?"

"We haven't found anybody," Ron murmured. "Nobody who could have cast the Marks, either, except Bellatrix."

Harry shook his head, denying it. "There's no way she's in La Push, Ron. No way. Except..."

He closed his eyes, thinking back to the huge wolves. One of them, big and gray, the one who had hurt him. The howl twenty minutes ago, and the look of pure panic on Paul's face as he fled the diner. The soft look in his eyes as he spoke of love at first sight, and the reference to Taha Aki, and how Seth had pulled him along to the bonfire months and months ago.

"Except something is," Harry finished. "And I'm not sure if they're all friendly."

Without explaining, Harry wheeled around and out of the house. There were curse-breakers surging through the crowd to make the Marks disappear, and Obliviators wiping memories. He pushed through them all, and found Ron's Auror squad following him.

The mouth of the forest was four blocks from his house, but it seemed like he was stepping inside it in moments. He made sure the Aurors were still behind him and shifted, liquid magic melting his body and resizing and reshaping it. He was warmer now, the mane of fur covering his ears. Though he knew it would only draw attention to him, he roared, long and loud.

Someone had meant to kill him tonight, and that someone was going to pay.

He shot off like a bullet.

Something was _not _right within the forest, it smelled weird to his Animagus form – a little too sweet to be pleasurable, but not sweet enough to burn. He let out a distressed whine, though he wasn't sure why, and continued on.

It wasn't far before he realized what was off.

Deep within the forest, where the trees were too close for the snow to touch the ground, vampires were swarmed. And those vampires were all crying for vengeance.

There were wolves, too – giant ones. Before they noticed him, Harry looked around. He noticed the Cullens, and glanced at the Aurors.

Shifting, he slammed his hands into Ron's chest. "Don't hurt the wolves," he pleaded. "And-and don't hurt that blond man over there, or anyone he seems allied with. Everyone else is fair game."

He heard Ron relaying this to his squad, but he didn't care. He was liquid again, and then feline, pawing the ground and launching himself at an unsuspecting vampire duo attacking a gray wolf.

The wolf was shocked. So were the vampires.

– – –

Paul glanced at his new fighting partner. It was the lion that he'd injured – it was Harry, but somehow not Harry, his wolf wouldn't accept it. The lion whined softly, and Paul responded with a rumble in his throat.

Then they were fighting again, and it seemed much easier now – a group of ten or twelve humans off to the side were fighting, light splashing out of sticks they held in their hands as they screamed Latin words. Vampires fell, left and right, unmoving though they hadn't been burnt. The Cullens weren't touched, but the pixie – Alice – had to warn a ginger boy (who looked to be the leader of the group) off of Tanya Denali.

Wherever Paul went, his fighting partner followed. Only a few vampires remained standing now, and he saw the Cullens beginning to burn the bodies when the group of humans froze.

"Bellatrix."

This was echoed through their mouths, and his fighting partner slipped into an angry crouch. Everyone stopped what they were doing, even the remaining rogue vampires, and turned their heads.

There was the crazy woman, and she looked as if this had all amused her very much.

"So where is your little friend, then, Weasley?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and whiney.

Weasley, the ginger who'd tried to hurt Tanya, growled. "You're not touching any of my friends – _ever _again."

"Oh, really? I'll have you know that I'm very capable of escaping t hat prison you lot put me in. As you can see. And I doubt you''ll ever catch me, anyways, ickle Weasley."

Weasley was getting angry, and lifted his wand. "Yeah, well, you won't be going into the prison again – because I'm going to _murder _you. This is for Ginny!" he screamed, and as he screamed, the lion roared, launching itself at the crazy woman.

Mid-air, the lion was Harry, fully clothed, a stick in his hand. Light flew from it, but the crazy woman was quick. She let out a maniacal laugh, sounding as if she was just off her rocker, shooting back light.

Back and forth, the two went, screaming insults and Latin at each other.

Paul vibrated with worry as one of the lights came to close to Harry and blood rushed down his arm, but the boy didn't stop – not for one second. He shot a bright green light, the Latin sounding something like Abra Kadabra, and the crazy woman looked shocked.

"This won't be the last you see of me!" she warned, and then turned on her heel and was gone before the light could touch her.

The clearing was silent.

Harry dropped to his knees and let out the most pained shriek-slash-sob Paul had ever heard. Weasley dropped to his knees, wrapping him in a tight embrace, and they both cried together.

"G-Ginny," Harry whimpered.

"Shh, I know," Weasley responded. "Calm down, Harry, calm down."

The wolves were changing back, pulling clothes on. Paul wiped some sweat from his eyes and limped to Harry, tilting his head up.

"You're amazing," Paul told him, offering a hand. Weasley let go of Harry and watched, eyes slightly knowing, as Harry took Paul's hand.

"What _are _you?" Paul whispered. Everyone in the clearing could hear it, from the Cullens standing with their Denali cousins, to the wolves opposite them, to the humans with the lights behind Harry.

"Wizards," Harry responded, that one word carrying across the clearing better than anything before them. "I'm a wizard."

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Review? c:

Last chapter: "It's alright, just wait and see. Your string of lights is still bright to me." ~Taylor Swift "Innocent" (I dunno, for some reason this song just really struck a chord in me)

Question: Will you check out "Harry Potter and the Sarkany Flame"? j/k; real question: Have any pets with weird habits?


	12. I Really Like You

_A/N: Here's the next installment!_

DISCLAIMER: I dun own anyfink you recognize.

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Twelve: I Really Like You**

"_Being loved makes a teenager feel secure and safe in an unsafe world._" _~Tim Smith._

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_January 23, 2000_

It was late, the sky turning darker and darker. The moon seemed to be hiding, because you couldn't see anything five feet from your face. The humans – wizards – began stringing up conjured lights. Harry called them 'conjured', anyways, and even helped at little.

"Come here, we'll heal you," Harry said, smiling tightly. "Vampire venom can be very tough to dispel, but we've got a way to get it out."

When nobody moved forward, Paul decided to. He held out his leg, and Harry 'conjured' something beneath it to hold it up. He was very gentle, waving his stick – a wand, maybe? – over the bites. There was an immense relief in Paul's chest as the venom practically _dripped_ out. Immediately, the wounds on his legs healed, and Harry looked at it in wonder.

"I didn't do that," he said, mouth opening in a small 'o'.

"No, I did," Paul responded, smiling. "Shapeshifters heal at an amazing rate, but the vampire venom stalls it."

Harry blinked, and then smiled. "Interesting."

"If you could do that," Sam butted in, amazed. "Why couldn't you heal yourself? From your accident."

"You mean from when the wolf bit me," Harry corrected him, as if he were chiding a small child. "I know the truth and so do you, so let's not deny it. And I didn't do it because I didn't know at the time you were magical. Er, that is, that you were magical creatures. When I went home, Hermione healed me."

"So _that's _what she was muttering about that night," Weasley laughed. "Only you would call your best mate in the middle of the night to have his wife come fix you up."

A blush spread across Harry face and he wrinkled his nose. "Don't say it like that, Ron!" he cried. "It makes it sound like I like Hermione or something."

"I do hope you like me, Harry dear, as we've been friends for years now," a voice behind them said, and a familiar girl trooped in. She was the one who had picked up Harry, which made her Hermione. "Now, what is going on here? I knew I should never let you two go off on your own. Was there a battle here or something? Every single time," she tutted, shaking her head, but her eyes were somewhat bright.

Harry smiled tightly. "You love us, Hermione. Admit it."

"You're my boys, of course I love you," she tutted. "Now let's fix up this lot, they look to be in quite a bit of pain."

So the wolves were passed from hand to hand, Hermione dispelling the venom and then Harry making the blood disappear and finally Ron was stitching their clothing back together with simple words and waves of the wand.

Hermione seemed a bit shocked that none of the vampires stepped forward, and she put her hands on her hips. It was eerily reminiscent of Harry, and Paul realized he must have picked it up from his long-time friend.

"Come along, don't be children," she sighed. "Vampires feel pain, too."

"I wouldn't argue, mate," Ron said wisely, and both he and Harry winced at the glare he got. So the vampires shuffled over, most of them feeling a little self-conscious – why, Paul hadn't a clue, but it must be because they'd never had someone guess what they were and have it right in one shot, and _then _still demand they come over and let her heal them up.

Harry was cleaning them up, too, though there wasn't any blood. Hermione wrinkled her nose at him.

"Harry James, you stop moving just this second before you reopen that cut on your arm."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "What cut?"

He seemed to have noticed it now, and winced as he shifted slightly away from the vampires. "Sorry," he said, apologetically. "I didn't know, or I wouldn't have stayed around – I know how blood affects you –"

"No need," Carlisle said, waving his hand. "We're all very good with blood, Mr. Potter. We drink animal blood, not human."

Harry nodded, but still began trying to heal himself. Paul watched curiously as the smaller boy jammed his wand into the dirt irritably.

"Calm down, Harry," Hermione laughed. "Honestly, when are you going to learn to heal a simple cut?"

Paul didn't think it was simple – it spanned from the boy's armpit to his elbow and was deep. There was blood down Harry's clothes, though you could hardly tell because of their dark color.

"When I chop my finger off and you're not around," Harry said cheekily, and she cuffed him gently around the head, laughing.

The vampires began to slip off, and Harry called a promise to them: "The Volturi won't know about this, you lot, don't worry!"

When they were gone, and the rest of the wolves were milling around with the rest of the wizards, Paul asked Harry quietly:

"You know the Volturi?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I met them a few times – they owe me a lot."

Paul repeated his sentiment from earlier: "You're amazing."

– – –

Harry invited them all to his house to feed them. All of the wizards left, because they were apparently Aurors, which Harry told them were like policemen, and had to file reports at the office in England. Stupidly, Paul asked:

"How'd they get here so fast?"

"Apparition," Harry responded, pulling pots and pans out of the cupboard. "Disappearing from one place and reappearing in another, only it's not really that simple but it's confusing so I won't go into it."

Seth was bouncing on his toes by the counter. "Harry! Harry, so this house is really magical? Is that why nobody could get into it?"

Harry rolled his eyes irritably. "Yep, the idiotic Black family put Muggle Repellants on it – that's this ward that repels non-magical people. I took them down, though."

Jacob looked a bit interested. "Black family?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "You're probably a distant part of it, I suppose. Long-disowned. This house actually belonged to my Godfather's line, whereas your line is probably my godfather's cousin's great-grandfather's line."

The wolves felt inexplicably confused, and Harry burst out into giggles.

"I'm kidding, I have absolutely no idea. I'll dig out the family tree later, yeah?" Harry smiled. "Watch that for me, will you?" he pointed to the eggs in the pan and then slipped off toward the fireplace, where he threw something in and the fire turned green.

Then, somehow, he _stuck his head in, _and just as Paul was running to him, Harry pulled out unharmed, laughing. Something came through, a foot, and then an arm. Then a whole body, a tall woman who looked just like Bellatrix – Paul growled – Harry chastised him with a single look.

"Hey, don't be growling at my godson's grandmother!"

Harry explained lowly. "Bellatrix and Andromeda are sisters," he told them. "Part of the huge Black Family. My godfather was their cousin, and his best friend married Andromeda's daughter and now I have Teddy."

"That's confusing," whined Seth, and it was.

The whole big group gathered round the kitchen table, eating and chatting.

Harry dropped his spoon into his bowl of soup, scooping up Teddy – who'd fallen asleep – and heading toward the stairs.

Paul slipped away unnoticed, following Harry.

He watched the man put his godson to bed, tucking him in with a tender look on his face and whispering, "Goodnight, Teddy Remus. I love you."

As Harry came out and shut the door, Paul pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

Harry was surprised, but nearly melted into the bigger man, sighing.

"I really like you, Harry," Paul told his imprint, tilting the boy's head up. Without putting too much thought into it, he leaned down and pressed his lips tightly to Harry's.

When he pulled away, Harry had his eyes closed, but that was soon remedied. Harry gave this shy little smile and cooed, "I think I really like you, too, Paul."

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_Last Chapter: My kitty, Ash, thinks he's a people. He doesn't curl up like most cats, he stretches out next to you and sleeps on his back like a person. He will also bite your hand and pick it up to put it where he wants you to scratch. _

_New Question: Paul, Emmett, Fred, and George are all standing in front of you asking you to be their Valentines. You have to choose one. Who do you choose? (If there are any males or girls who prefer women: Leah, Rosalie, Lily Evans, and Alice)_


	13. Unexpected Revelations

_A/N: Uhoh, guess you guys are going to be a bit ornery with me..._

DISCLAIMER: _I don't own anything you recognize. c:_

––––––

**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Thirteen: Unexpected Revelations**

"_For those who believe, no proof is necessary. For those who don't believe, no proof is possible." ~Stuart Chase._

––––––

_February 10, 2000_

Harry wasn't quite sure how it happened, but Teddy's vocabulary had suddenly boomed and the boy became more talkative than ever. Andromeda had laughed when he Floo'd to her house crying about how their little Teddy was a genius, and then proceeded to ruin his fun by telling him that children usually gain a little more confidence around this age and he'd probably always known those words. She sent them off after lunch with a knowing smile, muttering about 'first time parents'. (Which Harry was rather sore about, as Andy herself had only had one child!)

"Don't worry, buddy," Harry told Teddy conversationally. "_I_ think you're a genius."

"I think _you're _a genius!" Teddy parroted happily, playing with the strings on Harry's coat.

"If only," Harry muttered under his breath, plopping a kiss on his godson's now-black hair. When he'd first brought Teddy to La Push, he'd been afraid the boy would blow their cover by suddenly changing his hair or eye color while they were out. He'd come to learn, however, that it took a long time for kids this young to change their appearance: when Harry noticed the boy changing his hair color, he'd have an hour or so before he really had to worry.

He also explained away the constantly different hair colors by his godson's love of non-toxic Halloween hairspray. That wasn't strictly true, of course, but nobody who mattered would be able to realize that. All of his friends were in on the secret now – Seth, Paul, and Leah were all somewhat magical themselves. And nobody else usually noticed, save for the man who could be seen shoveling the sidewalks in the afternoon when Harry took Teddy down to the diner for lunch.

"Black today?" said man called cheerfully, waving.

"Black today," Harry responded, letting Teddy wave at him. Shortly afterward, he had his godson's cold nose pressed against the warm juncture of his neck and shoulder. "Ah! Teddy," he complained, instinctively bringing his shoulder up to shield the little area. The boy was giggling wildly, continuing to press his chilly face there. "Little monster," Harry griped good-naturedly. "Where'd your scarf go?"

"Bye-bye," Teddy responded innocently, and Harry knew the boy had stripped it off somewhere along the way.

"You're going to catch a cold," Harry fretted, shifting Teddy to his other hip as they entered the diner.

"Nuh-uh!" Teddy protested. "You ah my scawf!"

Harry grinned, nuzzling his cheek against the little boy's, before asking him what he wanted. When they were finished ordering, Harry carried the tray in one hand and his feet automatically led the duo to their usual seat...which was occupied by Paul.

"Knew you'd be here," Paul shrugged, eying Teddy with something akin to curiosity and distaste all in one. Harry had realized a week or so ago that Paul seemed to not be a kid person, which turned Harry off of him almost immediately. "Have you been avoiding me or something?"

Harry placed Teddy on the inside of the booth, then slid in next to him, a little guilty. "Kind of," he admitted – he couldn't lie, even the scar on his hand said that much.

Paul looked incredibly hurt. "What? Why? Did I do something?"

Harry chewed his lip, then shook his head. "No, you didn't. You just...Paul, you don't like kids. I do. Teddy is my godson and I'm working on adopting him. How could a relationship between us ever work if you didn't like children?"

_Not to mention I plan to have a couple more,_ Harry thought distractedly. It might not be for years, but someday he'd have a family of his own – even if it wasn't with the girl he'd originally thought it would be with.

Paul looked at his plate, and then up under his eyebrows at Harry. "I need to tell you something."

"Well, tell me, then," Harry grumbled distractedly, working to free Teddy of his coat and gloves.

"I imprinted on you."

"What does that mean?" Harry wondered, vaguely remembering the word from one of the legends. It had something to do with a wolf and a non-wolf, but what, exactly, he couldn't tell you.

"It means...umm.. Imprinting is when a wolf first sees their soul mate," Paul murmured in a fast voice, but Harry was used to people talking quickly. He'd learned out of necessity, because Hermione would talk at three times the normal speed when she was interested in something.

"_What?_" Harry gaped, trying to decide whether or not to put Teddy's coat and gloves back on and leave or wait for Paul to explain. He opted for the explanation route, as he'd probably get the explanation while attempting to flee, anyways.

"Er...yeah. Sam and Emily are imprinted," Paul said, avoiding Harry's eyes. "Imprinting is the best thing that could happen to us, 'cause otherwise we might settle down with someone who wasn't our imprint and then be forced to leave them if we ever imprinted. It physically hurts us – and our imprints – to be away from each other for too long."

Harry's eyes narrowed, remembering those long four or five months while he was in the hospital and none of the Healers could explain why he had chest pains, and how the longer he'd been away the worse it hurt... right up until he reentered La Push. At the time, he'd thought that he'd just become attached to the reservation and his body instinctively knew that he was going home. But if what Paul was saying was true...

"In your chest?" Harry whispered.

Paul traced the area where it had hurt him, and Harry watched the fingers with avid interest. What Paul was saying couldn't possibly be true, there was no such thing as 'imprinting', no bonding at first sight... it was cliché, just a legend...

"It's not possible," Harry said out loud, turning to prod Teddy into eating some more of his food. "And if it was, why wouldn't you have told me before?" he demanded, his mind coming to the conclusion that Paul was just trying to stop Harry from avoiding him. "Why only now that I don't want to see you?"

Paul's eyes widened at the blurted question, and then narrowed, and he tried his best to not get angry. After a handful of deep breaths, he succeeded. "Because I was in denial," he murmured. "I...the legends say that you imprint on the one who can pass on the wolf gene the easiest and the one who you're most compatible with. But...there's only ever been two cases of a male imprinting on a male, and both of those were long-thought to be myths. We...well, the creatures were said to be able to get pregnant, and everyone knows guys can't get pregnant."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "_Do _you? One of my friends is pregnant right now, and he's a male," he informed Paul, thinking of the letter he'd gotten from Dean and Seamus last week. "_I_ can get pregnant."

Not that he'd ever thought of it as a possibility before now – Harry had always been under the impression that he was straight, but Paul had changed that in him. Of course, he'd only kissed and cuddled with the man for a a week and a half or so before beginning to avoid him, so maybe he _was _straight..

"Y-you can?" Paul's eyes darkened. "I...need to think. I need to...I need to.." he jumped up, muttering to himself as he left the diner.

Neither boy was quite sure what had gotten into them. Harry wondered why he was so adamant about not liking men, when quite obviously he'd liked Paul. Paul wasn't sure why he was so against men being pregnant, why it was such a shock to him. If werewolves and shapeshifters and vampires and wizards existed, why couldn't men get pregnant?

––––––

_A/N: Don't worry, both of them will come to their senses by, on, or before Teddy's birthday (April 16). Oh, that's too far away? D: Sorrrrrry. :c_

LAST CHAPTER: as with many of you, I will choose both Fred AND George...because Fred and George without Fred is just "and George" and Fred and George without George is just "Fred and", and isn't that sad?

NEW QUESTION: _What is your opinion on authors who like to write twins? (I admit, I have a 'multiple' problem..those of you who remember my story Who We Are will remember that Bella and Edward had quintuplets, a singleton, triplets, a singleton. Yup. Multiple problem.)..._

_...this is not to say that Harry and Paul, when they finally come 'round, will have anything more than a singleton. It's not to say they'll even HAVE a singleton...just asking. c:_


	14. Valentine's Day

**PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO READ THIS:** Alrighties, guys. c: I came to the realization last night that, oh, many of you weren't expecting MPREG for this story and last night's question kind of scared you a little. (My favorite review was from an anon saying, "I can take a breather outside the diner with Paul.") But before you freak out, last night's question was NOT for this story! C: It's for my /other/ story...I don't do the chapter questions with them, but I may start because of last night. xD Anyways. There MAY be Mpreg in this story, but it will not REVOLVE around Mpreg. If there is any Mpreg, it will be contained to a couple of mentions and maybe an epilogue with the 'new family' or whatever. This story's plotline has to do with Bellatrix. Not babies. You didn't sign up for that. DON'T WORRY.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything you recognize. c:

––––––

**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Fourteen: Valentine's Day**

"_kisses are a better fate_

_than wisdom." ~e.e cummings_

––––––

_February 14, 2000_

"Shh," Paul whispered to Seth, arms full of all things pink. "Don't wake him up. I want to surprise him."

"I thought you were fighting?" Seth demanded, eyebrows raised. His arms, too, were full of things.

"Not..._exactly,_" Paul stressed, looking around. If they were caught now it would mean trouble. After all, you don't usually see two huge men fumbling around in the dark on the morning of Valentines Day, trying to sneak into someone's house in order to _surprise _them. At least, not a _good _surprise, usually. "We were...coming to an understanding."

It had taken him three and a half days to come to his senses. It was largely due to Emmett Cullen, actually – he and Emmett also had an _understanding, _a simple one. They were the two best video-gamers in the area. It made sense for them to play against each other, even if their species hated each other. In the middle of their game, they'd been grunting and talking as they tried valiantly to murder each other, and Emmett had stated:

"Well, dude, if there's such a thing as _vampires, _and vampires who can get female women pregnant with _half-vampires, _and such a thing as _shape-shifters _who can imprint on _wizards,_ who says those wizards can't get pregnant?"

Just the tone of Emmett's voice, the way he'd said everything, as if it was the easiest concept in the world... at the same time Emmett killed him, Paul had realized that the older man was right. And it wasn't really such a terrible idea, except he was still not keen on the 'children' thing and it wasn't like they were even _together _yet, let alone fu- er, having sex. He had a long time to get used to the idea. Harry was only nineteen.

(_A nineteen year old raising a toddler, _his mind reminded him, and Paul shoved the thought away.)

"And understanding, sure," Seth snickered, feeling along the top of the door for the key Harry had placed there for the wolves. After he found it, he slipped open the door and looked around.

Harry's house, as always, was impeccably clean. It was early, five or six in the morning, but it already seemed that someone was up...and that someone happened to be a little boy with lemon yellow hair stuck up in messy little spikes all around his head.

Teddy Lupin glanced up at the 'intruders' with disinterest, then went back to what he'd been doing. He was sitting in the dark, in his Buzz Lightyear pajamas, watching a cartoon on the television and eating dry cereal. The colors from the television lit up his face and made him seem surreal.

"What doing?" Teddy asked, his voice a loud whisper, as he continued to watch the television and munch his cereal.

"Umm..." Seth said, eyes wide. "Making a surprise. For your Uncle Harry."

"Oh," Teddy mumbled. "Be quiet."

As Paul and Seth went about hanging all of the disgustingly pink decorations they'd brought over, Teddy became more and more interested in what they were doing. His little purple eyes followed them around the room in an eerily unnerving way. Every time Paul caught him watching, the little boy would duck down until he couldn't be seen behind the couch.

The sun was making an appearance as they finished, and Seth departed with a wave and a goodbye to the small boy. "Be good for Paul while your Uncle Harry sleeps," he told Teddy.

"Okay," Teddy agreed. When the door had shut behind Seth, the little boy picked up his plastic bowl still half-full of cereal and padded to the kitchen (where Paul was beginning to make pancakes in the little heart-shaped pan Emily had lent him). "Milk please," he said, holding the bowl up.

"What-?" Paul asked, glancing down with irritation.

"Milk. Please," Teddy said again, hid bowl now held completely over his head like he was using it to shield himself from the rain.

Paul, cocking an eyebrow, took the bowl from Teddy and opened the refrigerator. A gallon of milk could be seen sitting well out of Teddy's reach, which explained why he'd been eating dry cereal.

"Uhh..." Paul looked around. "Go sit at the table."

"Milk?" Teddy asked, a little confused.

"I'm getting it, kid, I'm getting it," Paul groused, shooing the little boy away.

When Teddy had scrambled into a chair at the table, sitting with his knees under him, Paul took the milk out and poured it into the bowl. He brought the bowl to the table and Teddy cheered happily.

"Thankoo," he chirped, little arms giving him a fast hug before the boy went about eating his now-wet cereal.

Paul blinked in fascination, looking at Teddy before shaking his head. He turned and went back into the kitchen, not noticing how Teddy's skin and hair began to slowly darken.

– – –

"Mmmm," Harry murmured, stumbling out of his bed. Something smelled really good. Andy must have stopped over and made breakfast, as she often did. Teddy would already be down there with her – he always was – but he didn't hear anybody talking.

He'd made it to the bottom of the stairs before he noticed the decorations. His eyebrows shot up in surprise – he'd not put those up...but maybe Andy had. She always liked the silly holiday. Harry turned and hurried back up the stairs, opening a drawer in his room and pulling out the chocolate he'd gotten his godson. The boy was a chocoholic just like his father, and what holiday was the best for getting chocolate other than Valentine's Day?

Harry shuffled back down the stairs, looking all around, enjoying the bright pink decorations. He laughed a little, stepping lightly into the dining room. Teddy was slurping the milk out of his bowl, hair a peculiar brown color and skin on the tan side of orange. It was still steadily darkening, too – in the next thirty minutes it would probably be the russet color that most of the reservation donned.

"Morning, Teddy-bear," Harry murmured, setting down the small heart-shaped box in front of him. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valen's Day!" Teddy parroted, beaming at Harry. "Seth came!"

"Seth?" Harry blinked curiously. "Why was Seth here?"

"Seth and...and...and," Teddy shrugged. "Seth 'n summun. To make a surprise!"

Surprise. Harry's curiosity only grew as he stepped into the kitchen to greet Andromeda and was instead met by the back of Paul and a plate piled high with raspberries and heart-shaped chocolate-chip pancakes.

"Oh!" Paul shouted, having been too preoccupied to hear Teddy and Harry's conversation. "Uhh... hi," he murmured awkwardly.

"Paul?" Harry shook his head. "What are you _doing?_"

"I wanted to...I just.." Paul looked around. "Look, Harry, I really like you. I wasn't lying when I said that. And I'll – I'm making an effort."

"An effort?" Harry asked. "With what?"

"Everything!" Paul tugged his hair a little, setting down the plate. "I came and made you breakfast and interacted with your godson. Obviously he was content because he – well, he didn't wake you up, did he? And I decorated your house and.."

Harry's eyes sparkled a little. Maybe it was the fact that he'd just woken up, or maybe it was the fact that Paul was just really sweet when he was so unsure of himself, but either way, Harry jumped forward and kissed him clear on the lips.

Paul pulled away, a little shocked. Paul was so much taller than Harry that the boy had to arch up onto his tiptoes and still wrap his arms around the man's neck in order to pull his head down.

"Harry?" Paul mumbled.

"Be quiet and kiss me," Harry ordered, tilting his head back again.

And Paul did as he was told, leaning in and kissing Harry in the most tender way the boy had ever been kissed. Harry's fingers entangled in the man's hair and he let his eyes slipped closed, content.

Until, of course, Teddy started screaming. They both jumped back in shock to see a very smug little boy standing next to them, looking like Paul's mini-me with purple eyes.

"I knew there was a reason you didn't like kids," Harry muttered, trying his best not to glare at his godson.

Paul just laughed.

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_REVIEW! C: _

Last Chapter: I've written singletons, twins, triplets, quadruplets, quintuplets, sextuplets, and septuplets. Yes. I have. And my opinion on this matter is: the more babies at once, the harder it is to write. Twins are my favorite to write, though my dabbling in septuplets as an original piece was actually amusing. (Aven, Aria, Del, Cam, Ben, Alex, and Q might not agree with me though...;3)

New Question: What is your favorite holiday? c: The most popular answer may be incorporated into the story..;3


	15. Surprises

–––––––

**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Fifteen: Surprises**

"_A friend is someone who has the same enemies you have." ~Abraham Lincoln._

–––––––

_February 15, 2000_

"Now where'd the bitch get to?" Ron muttered to himself as he looked at the report on his desk. Even though he was running the squad meant to capture Bellatrix, someone else was tracking her. They were much better at it than he.

**LOCATION REPORT,** it read across the top. BELLATRIX LESTRANGE.

He read the report, snorting here and there at the load of rubbish it was. The tracker might be better than Ron was, but Bellatrix was a sneaky little snake and had completely slipped their hold. Yeah, load of rubbish. If he didn't know better, he'd think the tracker wanted Bellatrix free. But the tracker happened to have had relatives tortured by the brat.

"I will catch you," he warned the picture above his desk. "And you will pay."

– – –

Hermione played with the band on her wrist as she waited for Ron to get home. The runes were pretty, but they wouldn't stay on top. When the band twirled and pointed them down, nobody could see them!

Hermione was a nervous cooker. Of course, she wasn't a _good _chef, but she wasn't bad and Ron never complained (though she knew he secretly preferred Molly's and Harry's). Well, he'd be having a right feast when he got home, because Hermione had exciting news for him but her belly also fluttered with nerves as she thought about it.

The door popped open and her stirring paused before she picked it up again at a rapid pace. Ron's arms wrapped around her waist and he set his chin on her shoulder.

"Smells good, Hermione. What's the occasion?"

Fleur had taken months to tell Bill. She'd been too nervous to say anything until Bill noticed something was wrong. But Hermione was a Gryffindor.

"I have something to tell you," she whispered.

And Gryffindors act first, think later.

"Oh?"

"I'm pregnant," she rushed out, glad she wasn't facing him. He went rigid, and then slowly relaxed.

"What?" he wondered. "I don't think I caught you."

"I think you did, Ronald," Hermione chastised.

Ron pulled away and Hermione turned the stove off before whirling to face him. He had this confused, lost expression on his face.

"But...Hermione, how...?" he asked, a line forming between his eyes.

"Well, Ron, when a man loves a woman, he–"

"HERMIONE!"

"You had it coming," Hermione chuckled lightly, then frowned. "Are you unhappy?"

"What? No, gods no, I'm just...surprised, and...are you sure?" Ron asked, rushing forward to hold her.

"I'm sure," Hermione murmured wryly. She'd tried every brand of test the muggle drugstore offered and she'd even looked up several charms.

"We're going to have a baby," Ron choked. "Hermione! We're going to have a baby!"

Hermione laughed, throwing her arms around Ron. She'd never imagined herself as a mother. No, she really had imagined herself working for some feminist support group or something, refusing to carry a baby, and so on. But now that she was actually pregnant, she was happier than ever.

"I know," she whispered.

"Keep wearing that band," he murmured in her ear. "Now more than ever."

"I know," she repeated, tightening her arms.

"I love you," Ron kissed her lightly, pulling away to mutter again, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

– – –

Harry stretched out on the couch, Teddy curled up on his chest and Paul's lap as his pillow. Paul was lazily running his fingers through Harry's hair. Teddy still looked like Paul's clone and Harry found he liked the look, though he couldn't exactly take Teddy to lunch like this. He didn't look anything like the Teddy the cashiers or other residents knew. So he'd had to stay home for lunch, and it was a big change.

"Mmm," Paul's chest rumbled with the hum, making Harry giggle to himself. "I think someone's here."

"They'll go away," Harry responded, not wanting to move. Harry heard the knocking begin, but didn't move. Knocking turned to pounding, pounding turned to shouting, and finally Paul sighed and removed himself from the couch, going to the door.

"Leah? What's so urgent?" Paul demanded, eyebrows raising. Harry sat up, cradling the sleeping little boy carefully, peering out to the door with great curiosity.

"Where – is your boyfriend–" Leah gasped, and Paul was surprised to see blood on her fingers.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, joining them at the door.

"One of your kind – just showed up in the forest," Leah murmured, looking around wildly. "He's hurt. Badly."

Harry's eyes widened for a second, faces flashing through his mind of who it could be...who could have known to come here? He turned and Floo'd Andromeda, and thankfully she answered, taking Teddy from him with ease as he rushed away before explaining.

The three of them ran to the forest, Leah leading as if she'd walked this path every day of her life. Paul began to see why she knew exactly where she was going. She was following the path to the clearing where the vampire army had been. Paul's suspicions rose higher and higher the closer he got, but eventually he began smelling blood – so it must have been a human.

Harry burst into the clearing with wide, frightened eyes. Then, upon seeing the slumped form, he relaxed – and then tensed up again. Paul's little imprint rushed toward the bleeding bleeding boy, wand out, waving around.

Paul was scared for the boy. He knew that Harry, though his intentions were good, barely knew how to heal a paper-cut, let alone the gashes across the man's chest.

"Harry- Harry!" Paul shouted as the boy began getting frustrated. Harry tossed his wand to the side and a burst of raw magic (what Paul now knew to be accidental magic) surrounded the duo in the middle of the clearing.

When the light disappeared, the boy was no longer bleeding, but he was unconscious.

"Wake up!" Harry shouted, shaking the blond. "Wake up, you prat, wake- oh, hell, am I a wizard or not?" the wand flew to his hand. "_Enneverate!"_

The blond's eyes slid open and he gasped for air. After a few moments, he burst into tears and held onto Harry for dear life.

"S-she said she was sending me here, she said – but I didn't believe she'd send me to you – I thought I was going to die-" he cried, and Harry cooed and rocked the blond. The boy was maybe two inches taller than Harry, but that didn't matter. Harry curled his arms around the kid and rocked, as if he was rocking a baby.

"It's okay. You're okay now," Harry soothed. "Calm down, calm down. You're going to wear yourself out."

Paul watched with big eyes as the blond began relaxing.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I can't...that's, what, three times you've saved me now?"

A laugh bubbled up Harry's throat. "And the first two times we still hated each other."

"Harry?" Paul questioned, stepping forward uncertainly.

Harry glanced up and smiled. "Paul, Leah, this is a friend of mine from school. Draco Malfoy, meet Paul and Leah..."

Draco's gray eyes glanced up and he whistled lowly. Harry swatted his arm, rolling those green, green eyes.

"Pervert."

"Wanker," Draco responded.

"I do no such thing," Harry gasped, insulted. "Prat."

"Git."

"Tosser."

"Wanker," Draco repeated again, and the duo laughed – and it was really nice to see Harry laugh like that, so care free.

Harry sobered up quickly. "Was it _her?_ Bellatrix?"

"Yes," Draco nodded, slow and sure. "Her cronies kidnapped me from the manor last night, threw a bag over my head and knocked me unconscious. Have to tell you, I wasn't happy to see Aunt Bella." this was said sarcastically. "The bitch."

"I agree," Harry muttered, standing and pulling Draco with him. "Come on, we'll call Ron and you can tell him what you remember of the inside of her hideout."

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	16. How She Died

_A/N: Sorry this took so long, I had a hard time with this chapter. xD'_

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything you recognize. c:

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Sixteen: How She Died**

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_February 15, 2000_

Draco glanced around the room worriedly. That Paul man (who Harry looked very cozy with) had called in a handful of other huge men, including one who kept looking at Draco in the strangest way. There was also two or three vampires in the room who everyone seemed to be avoiding – with good reason, of course, vampires are meant to be avoided. And then there were the Aurors.

Because of ..._things,_ Draco wasn't very well-liked by the Aurors. The feeling was mutual, of course, but it was still disconcerting to be sat in front of them as if this was the Spanish Inquisition, his chest still aching from the Sectumsempra his _dear_ Auntie had shot at him, trying to convince them he wasn't lying. The whole room was silent except for himself and the Auror he was currently dealing with.

Who happened to be the Weasel.

While Weasel and Draco were both friends with Harry, they were _far _from 'friends by association.' They still hated each other and neither could understand why the other was friends with Harry. Other than the fact that Harry was just too nice for his own good.

"And you're sure," Weasel muttered, eyebrows raising in apprehension. "Because I, for one, do not believe you."

"I'm positive, you can try me under Veritaserum if you must," Draco snorted, rolling his eyes. "Why would I lie when I want her dead, too?"

"Because she's your _aunt,_" sneered Weasel and Draco growled.

"Yeah, she might be my aunt, but she also killed my mother. And she just tried to kill _me,_" he motioned to his robes, which were torn and barely hanging on to his form. "I don't care if you want to believe me, Weasel. I know who's telling the truth. Just because you can't let go of your little schoolyard enmity doesn't mean I can't," he smirked sadistically. He'd never get rid of his so-called 'schoolyard enmity' – but he sure could hide it pretty well.

"Oh _please, _ferret," Weasel laughed. "I think we might just try you under Veritaserum."

"Ron!" Harry snapped, eyes darkening. "_I _believe him."

"Harry, you can't honestly–" Weasel protested.

"Yeah, I can, because unlike _some _people I know how to call a truce. You of all people should be begging on your knees for Draco to tell you where Bellatrix took him. She _killed your sister,_" Harry's voice was deadly calm, eyes flashing. He knew that was a low blow, but if Ron didn't get his head out of his arse, who knew what would happen. Bellatrix could fall completely off the grid again and kill some more people. Who knows if she wasn't already killing people while they were sitting here arguing!

"Harry, don't you dare remind me about that. You don't think I _know?_" Ron hissed, hand tightening around his wand.

"No, I don't think you do," Harry responded, his own hand finding his wand. "Because if you remembered correctly, you'd be doing everything in your power to find your sister's murderer and put her behind bars – or execute her. You wouldn't be arguing with your old school enemy. We're not children anymore, Ronald," his words became softer and softer as he spoke.

"Like you're one to speak, about school enemies," Ron laughed. "Since you're so buddy-buddy with him now."

Harry ignored his friend, ignored everyone around him. He was about to do something very stupid – it would likely garner him a curse from the testy redhead in front of him. But maybe it would help to motivate the man.

"Do you even know how she died, Ron?" he wondered, voice light. "We were running. Through the Forbidden Forest. Remember, we were sent out to find the Centaurs and ask for their help. But Greyback and Bellatrix saw us leave – they were on our tail almost instantly. She was scared, Ron. She'd never done anything like that before. It was always you, Hermione, and I. She didn't know how to run and defend herself at the same time."

"Harry..." Ron whispered weakly.

"We'd never taught her. We thought it would always just be the three of us. We didn't want anybody else in the line of fire," Harry continued easily. "It was a mistake. I turned to curse Fenrir Greyback and she tripped. I pulled her up and we kept going, but she had broken her ankle in the roots of the trees. I didn't know how to heal broken bones, Ron. So I carried her instead."

Harry kept talking, voice getting louder and louder. He could picture everything the way it had been at that moment: it had just rained, the grounds were moist and slipper. The Death Eaters had attacked as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were getting back from hunting Horcruxes – it was May, but it was hot and humid. Ginny was sixteen, not supposed to be part of the fight at all, but Harry could never deny her anything. She'd followed him out of the Room of Requirements, and Harry had initially tried to get her to go back, but after a short argument had made her stick by his side.

Minerva had begged him to go get the Centaurs and anybody they could rally to help. They were severely outnumbered and because of years of less-than-perfect Defense teachers, the students who were capable of helping were few and far between. He'd agreed with little hesitation – between Death Eaters and the Forbidden Forest, Ginny had stood a higher chance in the Forbidden Forest.

Until she broke her ankle.

"Hang on to me and turn a little," he had told her, grunting under her weight as he continued to stumble near-blindly through the deeper parts of the forest. "Defend us, Ginny. Defend us!"

She was good, he remembered thinking as they crashed through the underbrush. Fenrir fell from a well-aimed Difindo going through his jugular (he was sure she hadn't meant to kill him, but now that he was dead, their chances of getting away unscathed had gotten higher). But Bellatrix was better, and she was shrieking out laughs and throwing curses back faster than Ginny could defend against them. A bone-breaking hex hit him in the shoulder and another hit the back of his calf, breaking his tibia clean in half. He dropped like a stone, cursing his stupidity, trying to get Ginny to stand back up and keep going – he told her he could hold Bellatrix off.

But she refused.

It was two against one, but Bellatrix had years more practice at killing and torturing than either teenager could ever have. She bound both of them tightly to the tree, and then set about torturing him. The Cruciatus hurt more than a broken tibia, that was for sure. When she released him from the Unforgivable, she lit him on fire – Fiendfyre. He had heard Ginny screaming, heard her trying to put him out even as he tried to lift his arm from the ropes to continue throwing curses at Bellatrix.

But she was done with him.

There was nothing more scary than the words "Avada Kedavra." Especially when those two words were aimed at the sixteen-year-old girl you loved more than anything in the world. He couldn't jump in front of the curse. He struggled against the magically conjured ropes, struggling to twist his wrist in a way that would allow him to aim his wand at the woman.

It was no use, of course. Ginny went limp and he began screaming, pain bursting through his chest – pain worse than the Cruciatus – and an arrow shot over Bellatrix's head, the woman having ducked just in time.

"What the he-" he remembered her hissing, turning to look at where the arrow had come from.

An army of Centaurs stood not too far away, but they were too little, too late.

Arrows rained down at Bellatrix, but the wards had fallen from the grounds and she was able to apparate away.

And he was left tied up next to his dead, cooling girlfriend.

Someone had eventually found them, of course, but that was long after he'd screamed himself raw and bloody, long after Ginny's body had cooled off next to him, long after his body was bruised and bloodied and rope-burned from struggling against Bellatrix's ropes.

Harry's eyes slid into focus, his eyes only seeing Ron. "You untied her, Ron. You know. _Why _do you have to make an arse out of yourself, _why _can't you just do your job?"

He was expecting the fist that flew at his face. It didn't feel good, but it relieve Harry's guilt a little. He'd never told Ron how, exactly, his baby sister had died. And now Ron knew the whole truth – even if he had been told in a room full of strangers, even if he had been told while waiting for the location of Bellatrix.

Which Draco seemed to have finally figured out.

His voice cut through the thick tension in the room, quiet and not directed at anybody in particular. "I couldn't figure out where I'd seen the ballroom before – that's where she took me – but then I remembered the one time I'd been to the :Lestrange Manor before then."

_Lestrange Manor._

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_REVIEW! C:_

Last Chapter:...uh...I don't remember what I asked...xD'

NEW QUESTION: Pretend you're the author. Pretend Harry's pregnant. Make up his first baby. (i.e, Name, gender, describe it..)

(NOTE: If I do make this MPREG, which is looking more likely, I already know what the baby would be like. xD Just wanna see your take)

~Kymmie


	17. Imprinting

_Hi guys! c: Think we can make it to 410 reviews tonight? That's just 20 reviews away... ;3_

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Seventeen: Imprinting**

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_February 20, 2000_

Harry's fingers drummed irritatingly on the coffee table, eyes unseeing. Paul, who was sitting in the recliner across from the smaller boy, rolled his eyes and stopped the fingers from moving with a single hand over top of them.

"What is your problem?" he wondered gently, voice quiet. Teddy was upstairs asleep, and he'd realized that talking at regular volume would alert the kid to the fact that he was there. Teddy seemed to be particularly fond of Paul, which Paul couldn't really understand , himself.

"I'm anxious," Harry responded, strained. "I... I..."

"Don't worry so much," Paul sighed, lifting the hand under his own and kissing it. "We'll know as soon as they do."

The last four or five days had been spent making a plan. They – the Aurors and Harry and Draco, seeing as the Pack and the Cullens weren't really part of this – had all agreed that they couldn't alert Bellatrix that they knew where she was. They had to act in silence. Tonight, some of the Aurors were going to put undetectable wards on the Lestrange Manor – monitoring wards and the like. They'd put in anti-apparition wards the night they made their move, which would be within the week – and hopefully Harry would be there.

Things had been amazingly tense between Harry and Ron since the night Harry had whispered about Ginny's death. Ron couldn't look Harry in the face anymore – and Harry didn't blame his longtime friend. It had taken nearly three years for Harry to come to terms with Ginny's death and to stop blaming himself. It would be three years in May. It might take Ron just as long to stop blaming Harry.

Hermione, of course, could care less about their little arguments – she'd been around the two of them for long enough to know that Ron would always come back around. She'd contacted Harry two days ago to tell him about her pregnancy, which Harry was honestly stoked about. He loved kids, and Hermione's pregnancy just meant that he had more kids to be around.

Harry stood abruptly, smiling, and shuffled over to the recliner. "Can I sit with you?" he whispered.

Paul chuckled. "Of course you can."

Paul's body was warm against his, maybe a little too warm, but Harry didn't care. He crawled into the recliner with the other man, curling up. There wasn't much room for him, so he was mostly on Paul's lap (not that Paul cared, of course).

"So, why do you think Seth's been acting so funny?" Harry asked, eyelids dropping a little. He stifled a yawn.

Ever since the night Draco had told them where Bellatrix was, Seth had been weird. He'd been practically avoiding everyone, this lost little puppy-dog look on his face all the while. Harry was worried for his newest friend, because the boy had never acted like this before.

Paul squirmed a little bit. "I, uh..."

"You know, don't you?" Harry accused, pouting a bit. Paul laughed, leaning up to kiss Harry's lower lip.

"I do know," Paul responded gently. "But that's for Seth to tell."

Harry chewed his lip and then nodded. "Okay."

Paul smirked, then leaned up to kiss Harry again. "You're so cute," he whispered, eyes bright, watching the blush spread across Harry's cheeks. "I'm lucky to have you, you know?"

"You're silly," Harry responded, nuzzling his face into Paul's neck. "I'm the lucky one."

"Nah, I'm just a moody shape-shifter," Paul laughed airily, then yelped when Harry nipped his neck. "Hey!"

"You don't like biting?" Harry asked innocently.

"Oh, you-"

Harry gasped as Paul flipped them suddenly. "Paul, what are you-"

"Paybacks," Paul's cheek lifted in a lopsided smile and he bent down to Harry's neck, watching the smaller boy wriggle around in anticipation. He bit there gently and then pulled away, not expecting Harry's fingers threaded through his hair.

"Let's experiment, Paul," the boy's voice was barely audible.

Paul's eyes sparked with curiosity, and then darkened. "Let's."

– – –

_February 21, 2000_

"Uncle _Howwwwwieee."_

This call was followed by a slightly-muffled couple of thumps on the door. Harry tried, valiantly, to ignore these interruptions of his sleep, but after only a few more knocks he gave in and rooted around for some boxers before slipping out of the bed.

His godson had two fingers in his mouth and his other hand wrapped around his sippy-cup, which was empty. "Juice?" the boy questioned, purple eyes huge.

"Teddy," Harry muttered, but traipsed to the kitchen obediently. His back hurt a bit and he was eager to get back to his bed. He got Teddy some juice and then scooped the little boy up, the staircase seeming ten miles long as he clomped up it. He sat Teddy in his room at the little Teddy-sized table and set up a child ward on the door so that the boy couldn't go running around and getting into trouble. Afterward he set up a monitoring charm. "If you get hungry, just say so," Harry yawned. The clock on the wall across from Teddy's room said it was only five in the morning.

Silly morning people.

The bed was still warm (no surprise there) when he crawled back into it. Paul rolled over, still asleep, and cuddled Harry closer.

At smile bloomed across Harry's face, and his eyes slipped closed.

It was three hours later when they were disturbed again. This time it wasn't Teddy, but rather, Draco – bursting into the room without knocking.

"Agh!" Draco shouted, covering his eyes. "Merlin, put some clothes on!"

Harry nuzzled further into Paul's side. "Maybe if you knocked instead of just coming in, you wouldn't have this problem."

"Well, I need to talk to you," Draco stated, glaring at Paul's form next to Harry's. "Well? What are you waiting for?" he demanded when Harry didn't move.

"If you insist," Harry shrugged, tossing the covers off himself and stepping out of bed. He was naked, a fact that Draco quickly saw. "Out of my room, please, Draco dear. Check on Teddy for me, yeah?"

A very jumpy Draco met him in the living room five minutes later, though Teddy was nowhere to be found. "He's asleep," Draco informed Harry.

"Oh. What do you need?" Harry wondered, plopping down in the recliner he and Paul had shared last night. He winced a little as a shooting pain went through his body.

Draco was amused by this, but said nothing about it. Instead, he murmured; "Is it true?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Sorry, Draco, you're gonna have to give me more than _that_. I'm not a mind-reader."

"Can the shape-shifters really...find their soul-mates with one look?" Draco whispered, tugging on a lock of his normally well-kept blond hair. It was now hanging in his face, clean but not styled.

Harry looked confused. "I'm not really sure. I'm still a bit skeptical, but that's what Paul told me. It's called 'imprinting'."

"And he imprinted on you," Draco stated. "And you're...okay with this?"

"I wasn't at first," Harry shrugged. "But now...I think I am. A little."

Draco looked away. "I'm not."

"You're not okay with Paul imprinting on me?" Harry muttered, looking just so confused that it wasn't even funny. "Draco – what is this-"

"No, you dolt, I'm not okay with being imprinted on!"

Harry's eyes narrowed in that sudden-realization way.

"Seth?"

Draco nodded helplessly.

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_Review? o:_

___Well ... I can't really answer last chapter's question, can I? ;3_

_NEW QUESTION: Favorite fics, please. Oh yes. We're back to that again..xD_

_I also would like to let you all know that we're nearing the end here... and I'm surprisingly eager to get TO the end...as you can tell, the chapters are slowly becoming shorter and shorter. Which is terrible when you think that they were already short to begin with..xD' I think I bit off more than I could chew with this story, but it's garnered me a good 390 reviews as of posting this. So thanks. c:_

_~Kymmie_


	18. The Games

_Hola, amigos! Hay nubes en el cielo! Es muy lindo. _

_-coughs- Anywhos, sorry it's been a few days since I updated. D:_

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Eighteen: The Games**

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_February 21, 2000_

"It'll be okay," Harry shrugged a little bit, smiling gently. "It's not all bad."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him , ready to scream and rant about how _of course_ it's 'all bad' because he didn't have a _choice _in the matter and apparently being away from his imprint would be painful for both him and the other person, but then he didn't. He just closed his mouth, looked at the floor, and shook his head.

It wasn't worth it.

"Why don't you stay with me," Harry suddenly said, smiling lightly. "I've got an extra room – or three – you can use. Seth's really nice, Draco. Why don't you give him a chance?"

"_Because I'm not gay _comes to mind," Draco mumbled, and then shrugged. "I guess there's no harm in it. As long as you use silencing charms."

"Great," Harry grinned. "Why don't you go pack up some of your things and then bring them here?"

"Alright," Draco nodded, standing. "I can do that."

He slipped to the Floo, tossing in some powder from the bowl on the mantle.

Draco had only been gone for five or ten minutes when Harry, who was bustling about the kitchen making breakfast, heard his Floo go off again. He went back to the living-room, eying the fireplace before allowing the group of people behind the flames to come through.

"What's happened?" he wondered as he traveled back toward the kitchen. Ron and a few of his Aurors sat down in the living-room.

"She's got someone."

Harry looked up in shock as he heard Ron's voice answering him. Had the man stopped being a dolt already? It never happened this fast! But maybe...

"Who?"

Ron looked at the floor and Harry was surprised to see a few tears on his longtime friend's face. He wiped them away angrily, shaking his head in that stubborn way that was purely Ron.

"Hermione."

_Hermione!_

"We have to go!" Harry shouted immediately, startling Paul, who was coming down the stairs. "We have to go save her, Ron, we have to-"

"It's not that _simple,_" Ron snarled. "We don't know where they are!"

Harry's fingers tightened around the rag he held in his hands. "What do you mean, you don't know where they are? I thought they were at the Lestrange Manor."

"Bellatrix saw us when we were putting up the anti-apparition wards," Ron sneered. "She Disapparated and took Hermione with her."

"But don't you – you always make her wear that bracelet-" Harry protested, mind immediately flashing to the thick black band that Hermione wore on her wrist, infused with more runes than anyone would think possible. Tracking runes, communication runes, shield runes.

"You mean this bracelet?" Ron asked bitterly, dropping the very same band down on the coffee table. It looked like it had been sawed off. "It was in the Manor."

Harry shook his head and punched the wall. It wasn't a smart decision, of course, and he knew that as soon as his knuckles touched the cement walls of the kitchen. He'd forgotten that most of the house was cement and not drywall. The bones in his hand fractured with sickening cracks and his knuckles split, spilling blood.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"Fuck," Ron agreed, not looking at him. "We need to find her, Harry, she's-"

"-Pregnant, I know," Harry snapped. "We need to find a tracking charm. Send your squad out searching for any clues, and then you and I will go up to my library and search."

– – –

Hermione whimpered a little bit as her hair was yanked and she was forced to follow the crazy witch in front of her. She wasn't sure where they were going, Hermione could only gather that it would be somewhere public – very public. 'A public execution', Bellatrix had sneered.

The worst part of it all was that the bracelet with the tracking charms on it had been ripped off. Bellatrix hadn't known what it was, but she'd known that it was dangerous to her. Ron was probably worried out of his mind.

Sunlight from above her alerted Hermione to the fact that they were underground. How or when that had happened was beyond her – but it didn't matter, anyways, as she was shoved up a ladder. Hermione fancied making a run for it, but she didn't have a wand and Bellatrix was not against taking her down from behind. That was what would happen if she tried to run.

They were in the middle of nowhere. Hermione wanted to ask what was going on, but Bellatrix just tied her up with a flick of her wand and then pressed the very same wand to a faded mark on her arm.

_No,_ Hermione thought, eyes huge. The Dark Mark, faded brown, flared the brightest black before fading out again. Within seconds, the sounds of apparition could be heard all around her – and she was surrounded, once again, by Death Eaters.

It was amazing to realize how many were still left. It was a small number compared to their previous masses, but it was still a rather large number overall..

"Look who I caught," Bellatrix sneered, knocking Hermione backward onto the ground. A round of jeers started up from the Death Eaters. "Ickle mudblood. Perfect bait, don't you think? Let's go."

She was pulled up by her hair and wanted to scream and ask why she'd been knocked down if, thirty seconds later, she needed to be on her feet again. Someone prodded her hard in the back and she stumbled forward before obediently walking.

Best to do what they want for now, right?

The back of a brick building was seen and she only had time to realize what was going on before she was shoved through an opening that someone had created by tapping their wand on the bricks. This was the back of the Leaky Cauldron.

"You're taking me to Diagon Alley," she muttered, exasperated. Didn't they realize that, as soon as they all went through, everyone would have their wands trained on the Death Eaters? That someone would notify the Aurors?

Bellatrix grabbed her as they came through to the Alley, wand trained on her throat. People began noticing them and a hushed silence fell over the whole Alley as people stopped what they were doing. Then, someone screamed:

"THAT'S HERMIONE GRANGER!"

Weasley, Hermione mentally chided, wishing she had her wand with her. But she didn't, and her wandless magic was testy at best. She thought of trying to get away again now that they were in the public eye, but Bellatrix's wand was digging into her throat and any movement made would just dig it further in and probably puncture her jugular.

Not-good, that's for sure.

It was disconcerting to have every wand in the Alley trained on you, even if it was only _seemingly _at you. In fact, they were all pointed at Bellatrix and the Death Eaters around her.

"Now, now, be good little sheep," Bellatrix giggled. "As soon as Potter gets here, everything will be okay."

Hermione grunted and closed her eyes as Bellatrix jerked her hair again. She hoped Harry hurried up and got here – Harry could get anyone out of anything.

It looked she didn't have to wait long. One of Ron's Aurors stepped out from Flourish and Blott's just then, and then Disapparated on the spot.

Let the games begin, then.

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_Review? C: Poor Hermione. _

_We're coming to the end...D: _

_NEW QUESTION: Favorite TV show?_


	19. Her End

_I do have an excuse! Or six. Well for the past couple of months (like April and most of May) I had no internet. I mostly watched DVDs and television and I was really into not-writing. Also I was in and out of the hospital with a peculiar sort of infection of the ear skin that left me in excruciating pain - I took more medicine in the last month than I have in the past 10 years. Also my dad had surgery today. And I got muse from I-dunno-where so here this chapter is and I think it's the last. An epilogue next, yes?_

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**The New Dawning**

**Chapter Nineteen: Her End**

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_February 21, 2000_

Harry slammed a book shut in frustration, still coming up empty. They'd been searching for tracking charms for three hours, but it felt like thirty years.

"Calm down," Paul murmured, rubbing Harry's shoulder. A small pile of guilt built up in the pit of Harry's stomach – he'd barely paid any attention to Paul or, indeed, Teddy in what seemed like forever. Turning, Harry couldn't quite erase the scowl from his face as he muttered,

"I can't."

"Why not?" Paul hummed, tugging Harry up out of the chair. "You need to."

"It's Hermione. I can't just..." Harry pulled on his hair in frustration, slipping away from Paul. "I need to find her, Paul, I need to!"

Ron, across the room, was also tense. A book whizzed past Harry's head, slamming against the wall, and he turned to watch Ron pull another book off the pile.

"Don't you guys, like, have a wizarding internet or something?" Paul demanded, getting a lost look from Ron and a tired one from Harry.

"No."

"Well calm down a little, I'm sure you're just overlooking it," Paul snorted, turning away. "I'm going to go play with Teddy."

Teddy was looking up at him from behind the child barrier on the second floor, face contorted into a pout. Paul snagged him up and sauntered into the kid's bedroom.

"Let's see, got any G.I. Joes? I used to love those things. The hell is this?" Paul asked, picking up a box that read '_dragons' _on the front. He opened it up, and inside were writhing little...creatures. "You keep dragons in your room? Naughty, naughty," he teased.

Teddy stuck his fingers in the box happily, grabbing at a palmful of the squirming (hopefully) toys. One was red and he pointed at it.

"China!"

"China?"

"China!"

"He means Chinese," a soft voice said from behind the duo. Paul turned to see Harry smiling wryly. "Sometimes you take better care of Teddy than I do. That's a Chinese Fireball."

"These are real?"

"They're just scale models of the actual creatures," Harry responded, tugging a Hungarian Horntail out of the box. When all the dragons were on the floor, Paul could see that the bottom of the box was meant to be a city. The dragons were bigger than all of the cars.

"Scale models, you say?"

"Oh yeah. They're loads bigger than this," Harry chuckled, tossing an Estonian Waterwalker at Paul. "Those guys are my favorites. Waterwalkers. Only peaceful dragon you'll ever meet."

Ron, from upstairs, screamed for Harry. Harry looked torn, and then placed the dragon on the ground. Paul sighed, watching his boyfriend leave with a worried look.

When he got up thirty minutes later, sleepy Teddy in the crib across the room, to go find Harry – neither he or Ron were in the house.

– – –

"What, Ron?" Harry demanded, looking at his frantic best mate and the Auror he was talking to.

"Mr. Potter, sir!" The Auror saluted.

"Stand down. Ron?"

"They know where Hermione is, Harry. Bellatrix has her in Diagon Alley."

– – –

"Inconspicuously," Ron ordered, looking at his team. Knowing that his wife was only a block away from him was making it _quite _hard to hold still. "Remember your wards. Go."

He watched the Aurors pair up and run off. Ron wasn't stupid enough to believe he could ward Diagon Alley without Bellatrix noticing – so instead they were warding the entire three-block radius around Diagon Alley, making it impossible for the woman to escape by any means except running.

And hell would he have an army waiting for her then.

"Level three, Jenkins!" he hissed at the stout Auror, reminding him to up the wards to the highest level. It was extremely hard to get through a Level Three anti-apparition ward – the only time he'd seen someone do it, they'd splinched their whole leg off and died in the process. If Bellatrix got through alive, she deserved to live.

Except not really.

It was taking all of his concentration not to just run right in and get himself killed or alert Bellatrix to the fact they were warding the city. This was Harry's fight – the only thing that was Ron's was the prize. And heaven help Harry if the 'prize' wasn't breathing at the end.

"I'm going in," Harry stated boldly once the anti-apparition wards were up. "Keep warding. Any wards you can think of really. Just be inconspicuous."

"Good luck, mate."

"I'm going to need it."

– – –

Bellatrix glared around at all of the frightened civilians, trying not to sneer. Sneering wasn't frightening. "Is ickle Harry Potter not going to show his baby face?" she taunted. "Too much a coward to defend his dearest friend from the evil Lady Be-"

"Shut your hole, Bellatrix."

She jumped.

The Alley went quiet.

How had the brat gotten inside without her noticing? A trickle of fear set in to her bones, somehow she knew this would be the last fight between the two of them – this must have been what her Master felt like on the eve of his death. Excited, nervous, and just a bit proud.

And, really, pride would always be the downfall of humanity, wouldn't it?

"Let her go and face me like a woman, Bellatrix."

She's six inches taller than him without shoes, but wearing her signature death-trap boots, she's a goot foot taller. She's not afraid and somehow terrified at the same time.

Hermione Granger is flung to the side and Bellatrix turns, facing Harry Potter straight on.

"This is the end, Potter. You will close your eyes for the final time today," she hissed, wand raising.

"Right, okay," Harry played along. "But first, answer me this.

"What is your motivation? Because, really, you must have one. Revenge? If you haven't noticed, Voldemort's dead. He won't be opening _his _eyes anymore, either. The measly followers who are supporting you are even starting to back down."

Bellatrix whirled on spot, and sure enough – only six men remained, looking horrified to be there themselves.

"You murdered _my _Master, Potter, I need no more motivation than that."

"Oh, boo-hoo," Harry snickered sarcastically. "And you murdered my godfather. And his cousin, and her husband, and his father-in-law, and countless many others. You think that's not motivation enough for this whole Alley to turn on you? Bella, I think you might not have noticed your last mistake."

She didn't answer, but she didn't need to. He kept on speaking anyways.

"You holed yourself up in a small area with dozens of people who want to murder you. You didn't take any precautions to get you out of here. I have one thing left to say."

Potter is looking like a hero, like one of those sickening people who stand up before a crowd of people – a motivator? She swears she can see him pull himself up another three inches and suddenly she feels tiny, more afraid than she'd ever been.

"This is paybacks."

Curses come from every direction and she's helpless. She spots the faces in the crowd: little Neville Longbottom, stoic and steady, wand held out as if he was always meant to do this. A sixty-year-old man whose wife she killed ages ago. Twin girls orphaned at a young age because of a fire she set. Hermione Granger, standing with her bloody lip, a wand – not her own – held in the arm forever scarred "MUDBLOOD."

In the midst of them all, Harry Potter – world-weary, skinny little baby Potter – looking so extremely sad that she couldn't stand it.

She screamed.

Because Potter had won and she'd learned her lesson, but too little, too late.

_You don't mess with Harry Potter._

And suddenly, just then, she knew: _those _were Voldemort's last thoughts.

The curse came from someone she'd never set eyes on before, a taste of her own medicine. It was green, the same green she'd seen sprouting from her wand so many times in the past. But she wasn't allowed that peaceful death. One of the twin girls sent a cutting curse her way – badly aimed, or extremely accurately aimed, whichever you choose. It sliced right across her jugular, severing, and she went down.

The Killing Curse missed.

Bellatrix bled out.

––––––

_So how bad was that? I think it was neat but kind of a let down, so sorry. Dx''_

_~Kymmie_


	20. Estonian WaterWalkers

––––––

**The New Dawning**

**Epilogue: Estonian Water-Walkers**

––––––

_September 1, 2014_

"Come 'long, duckies!"

Harry Potter smiled wryly at his only daughter, watching her shepherd her brothers through the barrier to Platform 9¾. The girl was four and the baby of the family, brunette pigtails curling, pale pale skin looking out of place amongst the older boys who traipsed after her. She took after Harry mostly, small and pale and green-eyed, but she had her Da's hair through and through.

"I'm not a ducky," argued Eli. "Next year, _I _get to be on the train!"

Paul wrapped his arm tightly around Harry, grinning, as he watched their children interact. Trailing behind them was sixteen-year-old Teddy, blue-haired, purple-eyed and groggy. He was tall and lanky just like Remus had been and Harry could barely look at him in the morning, when his eyes were amber and his hair was mousy brown, when he looked the perfect picture of young Remus Lupin. Sometimes it still brought tears to those green, green eyes.

"We're all duckies," sleepy Teddy decided. "Because Sari wants us to be duckies and we're good brothers, now aren't we, boys?"

"_Yes, _Teddy," droned the three boys in unison, looking at Sarah Walker with exasperated eyes. "We're duckies."

"Do you have everything, kiddoes?" Paul broke in, saving them an argument (or three). "Tony, got your books right? I heard you threatening to dump them out, that won't work you know. Jamie, buck up, I'm sure Professor McGonagall was only kidding about the year-long detention."

"But Da-" thirteen-year-old Jamie burst in, looking angry. "It wasn't even my fault!"

"I'm sure," Paul snickered, glancing at his son's frustrated face. "I'm also sure this is exactly how Frankie Longbottom felt when you and Freddie framed him for letting loose all the Hippogriffs last year. Deal with it."

Jamie's brown eyes hardened unhappily. "I didn't do that either."

"Let's not argue, children," Harry interrupted, straightening Sari's dress before looking up at his eldest boys. "Teddy, Jamie, Tony – I expect you all to be on your best behavior this year, got it?"

"Yes, Dad," they chorused.

"Be respectful to everyone," Harry continued, looking at Teddy. "_Even _Victoire."

"Yes, Dad," Teddy muttered.

"No pranks that will harm someone."

"Yes, Dad," Jamie sighed.

"And Tony – I expect you to get Sorted to whichever House you want, don't listen to Jamie's teasing."

"Yes, Dad!" Tony chirped.

"Wha' 'bout me, Daddy?" Sari asked, arching up onto her tiptoes.

"And little Miss Sarah, I expect you and Eli to get along all year because if not we will not be going to the beach this summer!" Harry said, teasingly.

"Yes, Daddy!" she squeaked, green eyes huge.

Paul, Harry, Sari and Eli watched the boys board the train. Eli was scowling the entire time – _he _wanted to be on that train, so badly it hurt. Harry curled his arm around small boy's shoulders, smiling gently. "Don't worry, Elliott, you'll have your turn. If you got on today, all your attention would be split with Tony!"

This seemed to cheer up the small black-haired boy. Shiny brown eyes glanced up at Harry and Harry grinned, turning his family around to head back to America.

– – –

_Dad, Da, Sari and Eli:_

_I got Sorted into Hufflepuff! The boy who sat with me on the train got Sorted to Ravenclaw but he says we can still be friends, so that's okay. His name is Leo Clearwater and he thinks his dads know you guys. Have you ever heard of Seth Clearwater and Draco Malfoy? _

_Leo and I made friends with a Ravenclaw girl named Valerie Wing, she says that my eyes are pretty – Jamie thinks she has a crush on my but I think she just thinks my eyes are nice. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws have most of their classes together so we all get to see each other a lot. Professor Longbottom says I can sit at the Ravenclaw table sometimes if I want to, too, so that's good. He says we're "promoting inter-House unity" or something. Jamie says it's dumb._

_I haven't seen Teddy very much the last couple of days but Jamie says that's normal. He says Teddy usually is hiding from Victoire Weasley most of the first week of school. _

_Jamie already almost lost control of his wolf once, but luckily it was just me and him. I accidentally called his crush a name but I didn't know he liked her so it's not my fault really. But he punched me anyways and shoved me in the Memorial Fountain. _

_The Weasleys are really hard to tell apart in school robes. Except River. He was Sorted into Hufflepuff, too. Robin, Raven, Rowan, Ridge, and Ranger are all in Ravenclaw. Aunt Hermione should be proud, I think. Rosie certainly is, though even she seems to have trouble with telling them apart. Poor teachers are probably going to have seven rough years ahead of them._

_Hogwarts is really different than public school but I think I like it. Well anyways I better go because Professor Weasley gave us a whole scroll to do on what we know about Defense. _

_Love,_

_Anthony the Hufflepuff (look I'm showing House pride!)_

–

_Guys,_

_You will never guess what Tony did yesterday!_

_He called Alice Longbottom clumsy! Can you believe it? I love her! And he called her a name! He also told me that I shouldn't be looking for relationships right now because I might imprint later. Well that's a load of buttsauce, because he's eleven and he hasn't even phased yet, so I think he should be quiet. _

_I also didn't punch him no matter what he says. But I did push him into the fountain, he looked a little sweaty._

_Teddy is still hiding from Victoire but he's not doing a good job of it, I think she'll find him in the next couple of hours. He should just tell her he's gay already. She doesn't believe the rumors that he's dating Michael Zabini. _

_Alice is trying to get me to tell her if I really framed her brother last year so I should go before she thinks I did (because I _didn't,_ it was all Freddie!), I don't want her mad at me._

_Love,_

_James Sirius_

–

_Dad,_

_Could you ask Bill if he'd get his daughter to stop stalking me? Because it's getting rather hard to focus on important things like schoolwork while she's constantly trying to smother me with her breasts. And the rumors are getting kind of out of hand now and I think Michael might be angry with me. So if you could, that would be nice._

_Love Teddy_

–

"Daddy, can we get a baby?" Sari asked from her position on the counter.

"What?" Harry asked, absentmindedly, stirring a chocolate batter up.

"Can we get a baby?" Sari asked again.

"A baby?" Eli questioned, eyebrows raising. He leaned against the counter and tugged her pigtail. "That's what we have you for."

"I think five is enough," Harry chuckled, plopping a kiss on Sari's head. "Don't you?"

"But I want a brother," Sari protested, nose wrinkling up.

"You've got four!" Harry laughed, cake sliding easily into the oven. "Four is a lot, Sari. Almost a whole hand."

"But I want a baby."

Harry pulled her off the counter, settling her easily onto his hip. "We'll think about it."

"Afraid to end up like me, Harry?" Hermione called from the table, and Harry looked up and snickered.

Very afraid. After Rose was born in late 2000, Hermione and Ron had tried for a few more years to have another child – they'd wanted two, one boy and one girl. Instead they ended up with seven – one girl and six boys. River, Ranger, Rowan, Ridge, Robin, and Raven – Harry thought they were nuts, naming them with such close names. Hermione had thought it cute until the boys were two and she was constantly mixing them up and saying the wrong names. "Robin- I mean, Raven!" and "Ridg- River! Whoever you are!"

For a smart woman, Hermione was definitely not a smart namer.

At least she hadn't let Ron name one Hugo.

Harry plopped down next to her, settling Sari on the couch with them. "Ugh. I'm so glad they're all off to Hogwarts. Nice and quiet around he-"

"_GOD- HARRY WHY THE HELL ARE THERE TOY DRAGONS IN MY SHOES, I JUST GOT BITTEN BY AN ESTONIAN WATER-WALKER!_"

"By the way," Harry whispered to Hermione. "I think Paul and I had a little too much fun when we went to visit the dragons. Feel up to being a godmother?"

–––––––

_That's all, folks. _

_A nice little end to a project that I started writing...TWO YEARS ago. (Erp, okay, I started writing at the end of 2010, so I guess it's only been 1.5 years xD)... I definitely signed on for way too much for this project and I didn't think everything through, as you can tell from the last chapter. Apologies for that._

_Hope you liked the epilogue. Here's a quick little chart of kids for ya:_

_Harry and Paul: Theodore "Teddy" Remus (16), James "Jamie" Sirius (13), Anthony "Tony" Paul (11), Elliott "Eli" Jared (10), and Sarah "Sari" Lily (4)..._

_Hermione and Ron: Rose "Rosie" Ginevra (14), River Ronald, Raven William, Robin Harry, Rowan George, Ridge Hugo and Ranger Frederick (11)_

_Draco and Seth: Leontes "Leo" Harold (11)_

_Neville and Hannah: Franklin "Frankie" Neville and Alice "Ally" Hannah (13)_

_~Kymmie_


	21. Author's Note: FRENCH!

Author's Note::

This story is currently being translated to French here:

/s/9101770/1/

(:


	22. AN: PAUL WALKERPAUL LAHOTE

**READ: DISCUSSING THE PAUL WALKER/PAUL LAHOTE PHENOMENON**

Hi all.

This is getting a tad ridiculous. The amount of reviews I get telling me "Paul Walker is the guy who died in Fast and Furious! I think you mean Paul Lahote!" is disgusting.

I mentioned this early on in the fic when I was writing it, but I have NEVER watched a Fast and Furious movie. In fact, until someone told me who Paul Walker was, I'd never even heard of it. I was a bit under the rock for various reasons I don't need to explain to you guys.

On top of this, in the books, Paul Lahote does not have a last name. AT ALL. Neither does Jared. So I decided to give him a last name. One of the writers I used to follow (TwiLover24? Is that is? I can't remember) called her Paul "Paul Walker" and I really liked it.

Paul Walker sounds good together. So let's review:

1.) I've to this day never seen Fast and Furious.

2.) I hadn't heard of Paul Walker at the point when the story was written.

3.) Paul doesn't have a last name in the books—if he does in the movies, that's cool, but I had never watched or heard about them.

4.) I don't need reviews asking me "Don't you mean Paul Lahote?!" when you know exactly who I'm talking about.

Thanks guys. I know this won't stop people from reviewing about it, but hopefully it'll clear some things up.


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